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‘'Sh!' he \^hispered, softly, “Look sharp!’' 



FOR THE CHILDREN'S HOUR SERIES 


EVERYDAY STORIES 


BY 

CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY 


Author of 

“For the Children’s Hour,” “Firelight Stories,” “Stories 
Children Need,” “For the Story Teller,” 

“Tell Me Another Story,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

FREDERICK KNOWLES 


MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY 
SPRINGFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS 
1919 



Copyright 1919 

By MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY 
Springfield, Massachusette 



BradlQ>QuaUtjj Books ©C1.A515997 

y&r Children 

M 12 Iyi9 


I 


CONTENTS 


What Kept the New Chimney Waiting 7 

How the Home was Built 10 

Selling Timothy Titus 16 

The Tomato Plant 21 

The Calico’s Story 25 

The New Red Dress 30 

HTlhe Little Gray Grandmother 35 

'^he Big Red Apple 41 

Apple-Seed John 48 

The Elder Brother 53 

Who Ate the Dolls’ Dinner ? 58 

Making the Best of It 62 

Grandfather’s Penny. 67 

The Pine Tree 73 

Tiny Tim 80 

Little Cosette 85 

>^-How Cedric Became a Knight 93 

A Little Lad of Long Ago 101 

Big Brother’s Valentine 107 

The Snowdrop 115 

Mr. Easter Rabbit 117 

The Story of the Little Mouse 122 

The Rich Goose 127 

Mother Spider 134 

The Ugly Duckling 138 

The Baby Queen 146 

Tom, The Water Baby 151 



Everyda}^" Stories 


WHAT KEPT THE NEW CHIMNEY 
WAITING. 

A new chimney was going to be built 
on grandpa’s house, and the boys were in 
a state of high glee. They were always 
excited when something was going on. This 
woiild be splendid, Wayne said. 

“ Mike is coming, you know, to mix the 
mortar and carry it up the ladder to the 
mason. He will tell us stories in the 
noonings!” Wayne told Casper. 

“Yes,” said Casper; “and, Wayne, let 
us go get his hod and play we are hod 
carriers, with mud for mortar. Come on.” 

“ Come on ! ” shouted W ayne. “ The hod 
is leaning up against the bam, where he 
left it when he brought the things over.” 

On the way to the bam they saw 
Grandpa harnessing old Molly to the big, 
blue cart. That meant a beautiful ride down 


8 WHAT KEPT THE NEW CHIMNEY WAITING 

to the orchard. The boys forgot all about 
playing hod carrier. They climbed in, and 
jolted away. 

“ Mike is coming to-morrow, you know. 
Grandpa, and the mason,” said Casper. But 
dear old Grandpa shook his white head. 

“Not to-morrow, boys. You will have 
to wait a bit longer. I sent word to the 
mason and Mike last night that they 
couldn’t come for a few weeks longer. I 
have decided to put the chimney off. 

Both the boys were disappointed. 
Grandpa did not speak again at once. He 
was driving old Molly carefully out at the 
side of the cart road. The boys saw a 
little crippled butterfly fluttering along in 
the wheel track. That was why Grandpa 
turned out. Grandpa’s big heart had room 
enough in it for every live thing. 

Back in the track again, further on. 
Grandpa said ; " When we get home, boys, 
I will show you why we had to wait for 
the new chimney. You will agree with me, 
I know.” And Grandpa’s eyes twinkled. 

“A little bird told me,” he said, and 


WHAT KEPT THE NEW CHIMNEY WAITING 9 

that was all they found out until they got 
home. Then the same little bird told them, 
too. 

Grandpa took them up to the attic with 
a great air of mystery. The old chimney 
had been torn down hah way to the attic 
floor. Grandpa tiptoed up to it, and lifted 
the boys, one at a time, to peer into it. 

“Sh!” he whispered, softly. “Look 
sharp ! ” 

And there, on a little nest of mud, lined 
with straws, and resting on the bricks, sat 
a httle bird ! She blinked her bright eyes 
at the kind faces peering down. It was as 
if she said: 

“Oh, dear, no; I’m not afraid of you! 
Isn’t this a beautiful nest? It is so safe! 
There are four speckly eggs under me. 
When I have hatched them and brought up 
my family in the way good httle chimney 
swallows should go, you may build your 
chimney. Do not build it before.” 

And that was why Grandpa’s new 
chimney had to wait. 


Copyright by the Outlook. 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT. 


Once there was a dear family — Father, 
Mother, big Brother Tom, little Sister Polly, 
and the baby, Gustavus Adolphus. Every 
one of the family wanted a home more 
than anything else in the world. 

They hved in a house, but that was 
rented. They wanted a home of their own, 
with a sunny room for Mother and Father 
and Baby. They wanted a wee room close 
by for the little sister, and a big, airy room 
for Brother Tom. They wanted a cozy 
room for the cooking and eating. Best of 
all, they wanted a room that Grandmother 
might call her own when she came to see 
them. 

A box which Tom had made always 
stood on mother’s mantel. They called it 
the “Home Bank.” Every penny that could 
be spared was dropped in there for the 
building of the home. 

This box had been full once. Then it 
had been emptied to buy a little piece of 
10 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT 


U 


ground where the home could be built 
when the box was full again. 

The box filled very slowly, though. 
Q-ustavus Adolphus was nearly three years 
old when, one day, the father came in with 
a smiling face and called the family to him. 

Mother left her baking, and Tom came 
in from his work. After Polly had brought 
the baby, the father said to them: “Now, 
what do we all want more than anything 
else in the world?” 

“A home!” said Mother and Brother 
Tom. 

“A home I ” said little Sister Polly. 

“Home!” said the baby, Gustavus 
Adolphus, because his mother had said it. 

“Well,” said the father, “I think we 
shall have our home, if each one of us will 
help. I must go away to the forest, where 
the trees grow so tall and fine. All winter 
long I must chop the trees down. Then 1 
shall be paid in lumber, which will help in 
the building of the home. While I am away, 
mother will have to fill my place, and her 
own. too. She will have to go to market, 


12 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT 


buy the coal, keep the pantry full, and pay 
the bills, as well as wash and cook, and 
sew. She will take care of the children, 
and keep a brave heart until I come back 
again.” 

The mother was willing to do all this, 
and more, too, for the dear home. Brother 
Tom asked eagerly: “What can I do? — 
what can I do?” He wanted to begin 
work right then, without waiting a minute. 

“ I have found you a place in the 
carpenter’s shop where I work,” answered 
the father. “You will work for the 
carpenter, and all the while be learning 
to saw and hammer and plane. You will 
be ready in the spring to help build the 
home.” 

Now, this pleased Tom so much that 
he threw his cap in the air, which made 
the baby laugh. Little Polly did not laugh, 
because she was afraid she was too small 
to help. 

But, after a while the father said: “I 
shall be away in the great forest cutting 
down the trees; mother will be washing 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT 


13 


and sewing and baking; Tom will be at 
work in the carpenter’s shop. And who 
will take care of the baby?” 

“I ■will, I -will,” cried Polly, running to 
kiss the baby, “ and the baby can be good 
and sweet.” 

So it was all arranged that they would 
have their home. It would belong 'to every 
one, because each one would help. And 
the father made haste to prepare for the 
■winter. He stored away the firewood, 
and put up the stoves. When the wood 
choppers went to the forest he was ready 
to go ■with them. 

Out in the forest the trees were waiting. 
Nobody knew how many years they had 
been growing there. Every year they had 
gro'wn stronger and more beautiful for the 
work they had to do. Every one of them 
had gro'wn from a baby tree to a giant. 
When the choppers came, there stood the 
giant trees. They were so bare and still in 
the ■wintry air that the sound of the axes 
rang from one end of the woods to the 
other. From sunrise to sunset the men 


14 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT 


worked. It was lonely in the woods. 
White snow was on the ground, and the 
chill wind blowing. But the father kept 
his heart cheery. 

Nobody’s ax was sharper than his or 
cut so many trees. No one was more glad 
than he when spring came and the logs 
were hauled down the river. 

The river had been waiting, too, under 
its ice. Now that the snows were melting, 
and all the little mountain streams were 
tumbling down to help, the river grew wide 
and strong. It dashed along, floating the 
logs when the men pushed them in, and 
carrying them on with a rush and a roar. 

So they went on their way to the saw 
mills, where they were sawed into lumber 
to build houses. Then the father hurried 
home. 

When he came there, he found that 
the mother had baked, and washed, and 
sewed, and taken care of the children, as 
only such a precious mother could have 
done. Brother Tom had worked so hard 
in the carpenter’s shop that he knew how 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT 15 

to hammer, and plane, and saw. Sister 
Polly had taken such good care of the 
baby that he looked as sweet and clean 
and happy as a rose in the garden. And 
the baby had been so good that he was a 
joy to the whole family. 

“I must get this dear family into their 
home,” said the father. Then he and 
Brother Tom went to work with a will. 

So the home was buHt, with a sunny 
room for Father and Mother and Baby. 
There was a wee httle room close by for 
good Sister Polly. There was a big, airy 
room for Brother Tom ; and a cozy room for 
the cooking and eating. Best of all, there 
was a room for the dear Grandmother, who 
came to hve with them all the time. 


Copyright 1900 by the Milton Bradley Company. 


SELLING TIMOTHY TITUS. 


“Dear me,” said mother, “I can’t think 
of having four cats in the house all winter.” 

“I should say you couldn’t,” laughed 
father; “you will have to give them away.” 

But there was the old kitty. Father 
himself couldn’t think of giving her away. 
She had been in the house since it was 
built, and there was not a better mouser 
anywhere. Then there were Toots and 
Jingle. It did seem a pity to part them. 
Even mother herself said so. 

They were black and white. They were 
so nearly alike that you couldn’t tell them 
apart unless you looked at their noses. 
Toot’s nose was black, and Jingle’s nose 
was white. 

And then there was Timothy Titus. He 
was black and white, too, but a good deal 
more white than black. “He is an odd 
one,” laughed mother. “We might give 
him away first.” 

But Caroline caught up Timothy Titus. 

16 


SELLING TIMOTHY TITUS 


17 


“O-oh,” she said, cuddling him close to her 
neck ; “ he is so cunning and sweet, mother, 
I can’t bear to part with him.” 

By and by, when the kittens were 
taking their afternoon nap by the fire, in 
came Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis lived on the 
other side of the river and peddled apples. 
He looked down at the little furry heap 
and laughed. “ Seems to me you have 
more than your share of cats,” said he. 
“We haven’t got any.” 

“Caroline may give you one of hers,” 
said mother. Caroline looked down at her 
shoes. Mr. Davis could tell which way the 
wind blew. 

“ Suppose we make a trade,” he said to 
Caroline. “I’ll give you a peck of sweet 
apples for one of these kittens,” and he 
picked up Timothy Titus. 

Caroline looked up. A peck of sweet 
apples did not grow on every bush. Besides, 
maybe four cats were too many. 

“I--I will, if mother will let me keep 
Toots and Jingle,” she said. 

Mother laughed; she did not like to 


18 


SELLING TIMOTHY TITUS 


promise. “We will see about it,” she said; 
“three cats are less than four, anyway.” 

So Mr. Davis measured out a peck of 
sweet apples, and gave them to Caroline. 
And Caroline hugged and kissed and cried 
over Timothy Titus. Then she gave him 
to Mr. Davis, who put him in a basket and 
tied a bag over him. 

“He will be all right,” said Mr. Davis. 
“Good day,” and away rumbled the apple 
cart. 

But as soon as the apple cart was out 
of s^ht, Caroline began to be sorry. She 
stood at the window with a very doleful 
face, looking across the river at Mr. Davis’s 
big, white house. 

The sky had all at once grown cloudy, 
and the wind began to blow. And, as if to 
make a bad matter worse. Toots woke up 
and flew around the room in a fit. 

“It is all because he knows that Timothy 
Titus is gone,” sobbed Caroline, running to 
hide her head in her mother’s lap. “How 
would I feel if Teddy were given away, 
where I’d never see him any more ? The 


SELLING TIMOTHY TITUS 19 

apples are bitter, too; I don’t like them. 
Oh, dear!” 

But mother said that perhaps Timothy 
Titus would come home again. “I have 
heard of such things,” she said. Then 
she told Caroline a story about a cat 
who traveled forty miles back to her old 
home. 

“I don’t believe Timothy Titus can,” 
sighed Caroline, “because he is over the 
river, and there is no bridge— only the 
ferryboat. I know he can’t.” 

“Oh, stranger things have happened,” 
said mother, hopefully. 

But she was as surprised as Caroline 
was the next morning. When the kitchen 
door was opened — what do you think ? In 
walked Timothy Titus, as large as life. He 
was only a little bit draggled as to his fur 
and muddy around his paws ! 

“ HeUo ! ” said father. 

“ W ell, well ! ” said mother. “ Why, here 
is Timothy Titus ! ” 

Just at that minute Caroline came 
running out in her nightgown. She gave 


20 


SELLING TIMOTHY TITUS 


one look, and then she snatched Timothy 
Titus up in her arms. 

“ Oh, oh ! ” she said, too full of joy to do 
anything else for a minute. “ Oh, you darling 
cat ! How did he get here, mother ? ” 

“ I am sure I can’t tell,” said mother. 

Neither could any one else, except the 
ferry man. When father questioned him, 
he said that he thought he did remember 
seeing a little black and white cat sitting 
under the seat the night before. He wasn’t 
sure of it, though, and so Caroline couldn’t 
be. 

“Well, Timothy Titus has come baoK,” 
she said, “ and he is going to stay, isn’t he, 
mother ? We can give Mr. Davis back his 
apples.” 

But Mr. Davis said a trade was a trade, 
and he was not going to take back the 
apples. And Timothy Titus stayed ! 

Copyright by The Youth’s Companion. 


THE TOMATO PLANT. 


“Have another tomato, Johnny,” said 
Grandma, as she saw the last red slice 
disappear from Johnny’s plate; “I think 
you like tomatoes.” 

“I do,” said Johnny; “I like them raw, 
and stewed, and baked, and almost any 
way.” 

“Didn’t you like tomatoes when you 
were little. Grandma ? ” Johnny asked. He 
saw Grandma looking down at her plate 
with a smile in her eyes. 

“No,” Grandma said, “but that was 
because I was a big girl before I ever 
tasted one. I never saw a tomato until I 
was thirteen years old. 

“ I can remember it so well. A peddler 
came by our farm once a month, bringing 
buttons and thread and such little things 
to sell. He brought the tomato seed to 
mother. 

“He used to carry seeds and cuttings 
of plants from one farmer’s wife to the next. 

21 


22 


THE TOMATO PLANT 


They liked to see him come. He could tell 
all the news, too, from up the road and 
down. 

“One spring morning he came. After 
mother had bought all she needed from his 
big, red wagon, he fed his horse. As he sat 
by the kitchen fire waiting for his dinner, 
he fumbled about in his pockets in search of 
something. Then he drew out a very small 
package and handed it to mother. 

“‘I have brought you some love-apple 
seeds,’ he said. ‘I got them in the city; I 
gave my sister half and brought half to 
you.’ 

“‘Thank you, kindly,’ mother said, as 
she looked at the little yellow seeds. ‘I 
am very glad to get them. What kind of 
a plant is the love-apple ? ’ 

“‘Well,’ said the peddler, ‘the man who 
gave the seeds to me had his plants last 
year in a sunny fence comer. The flowers 
are small, but the fruit is bright red. It is 
very pretty among the dark green leaves. 
You can’t eat the fruit, though — it may be 
poisonous. It is something new. The man 


THE TOMATO PLANT 


23 


who gave me the seeds got them from a 
captain of a ship from South America. 
They grow wild there.’ 

“ So mother planted her love-apple 
seeds in a warm fence comer. They grew, 
and the little yellow blossoms came. After 
them came the pretty red fmit. We children 
would go out and look at it, and talk about 
it. We wondered if it would hurt us if we 
just tasted it. 

“ One day mother heard us talking 
about it, and she called us away. She told 
us that if we could not be satisfied to just 
look at the pretty red fruit she would have 
to pull up the love-apple vines and throw 
them away. The peddler had said it might 
be poisonous. 

“We knew she would be sorry to do 
that, for no one else about had any love- 
apples. So we kept away from the fence 
corner. The vine grew and blossomed, and 
the red showed in new places every day. 
The birds did not seem to be at all afraid 
of the frviit, but ate all they wanted of it. 

“One day, in the early fall, my uncle 


24 


THE TOMATO PLANT 


came from New York to make us a visit. 
When he went out in the garden he 
stopped in surprise. ‘Why, Mary,’ he said, 
‘what fine tomato vines you have! Where 
did you get them?’ 

“‘We call them love-apples,’ mother 
said. Then she told him how the peddler 
had brought the seed. But when my uncle 
found that we were afraid to eat them he 
laughed. He showed mother how to get 
some ready for supper. 

“That was my first taste of tomato, 
Johnny,” Grandma said, “and you shall 
have some for supper fixed the same way — 
cut up with cream and sugar.” 


Copyright by The Youth’s Companion. 


THE CALICO’S STORY. 


Once I was very tiny and all covered 
with a brown coat. I had many brothers 
and sisters. We lived in the sunny South, 
and were kept huddled close together in 
a strong bag. 

One morning the people who lived in 
the house were up earlier than usual. I 
heard the master say; “Tom, you may 
plant my cotton seed to-day.” 

Cotton seed was my name, and I 
wondered if it were better to be planted 
than to be tied up in a bag. But while I 
was thinking, Tom picked me up with the 
others. I was soon put into a little bed 
close to a rolling river. 

I loved to listen to the water as it 
laughed on its journey to the sea. I wanted 
to see it, but my coat fitted so closely that 
there was no chance. 

But I began to feel larger and larger. 
One day my snug coat split, and I popped 
right out of the ground. Was I not happy, 

25 


2S 


THE CALICO’S STORY 


then 9 I had a green body and two green 
leaves. I stretched my head higher, and 
higher, and at last I had three beautiful 
blossoms. 

I think I must have been vain, for aU 
my beautiful petals left me, to go with Mr. 
Wind. I mourned for them every day, but, 
to my surprise, the little bolls left by the 
blossoms burst. I was covered with cotton 
as white as snow and as soft as silk ! 

I was as happy as a queen ! The cool 
wind fanned me. The sunbeams came to 
warm me, and the dear old river lulled me 
to rest. I did not need any other friends, 
but I found that I had some, soon. 

“Come, children,” I heard Aunt Ohloe 
call, “we must pick the cotton.” 

And the children did come — a dozen 
woolly heads, and twice that number of 
shining eyes. One little fellow cried out: 
“ Oh, did you ever see nicer cotton ? ” And 
in a minute all my white was held in his 
little black fingers. Next I was riding in a 
basket on top of Tom’s head. Then I was 
in a cart on my way to the “gin.” 


THE CALICO’S STORY 


27 


I was sorry as I left the fields, and said : 
“Goodbye, old seed and leaves. Goodbye, 
dear river.” 

When I came to the “gin,” a machine 
took from my downy grasp many httle 
fellows dressed in brown coats. They 
looked just as I did before I went to sleep 
in Mother Earth. 

My next trip was in a bale. I was 
loaded on a big ship which sailed on a 
great sea. I hked this bale and the ride. 
It made me think of the river where I used 
to live. 

By and by the ship stopped. 

I was carried to a large house where I 
heard “ buzz, buzz, buzz.” So many strange 
things happened to me that I wondered 
what would be the end of it all. I was 
cleansed, and twisted, and spun, and woven, 
and bleached. At last I found that I had 
become white cloth. 

One thing I enjoyed here was the old 
river that rushed along. It turned heavy 
wheels that made the spindles buzz and 
the shuttles fly. 


28 


THE CALICO’S STORY 


My next journey was through a printing 
machine. At first I was white. But this 
machine sent me under a roller which left 
little bunches of red cherries all over me. 
Then I went under another roller which put 
green stems on the cherries, and left green 
leaves close to the stems. A third roller 
left brown twigs where all the stems and 
leaves ought to hang. Prettier bunches of 
fruit you never saw. 

Now my white was almost gone, but 
what was left was made black by a fourth 
roller. 

I went under these rollers so quickly— 
a mile an hour — that I could not see very 
much. But I know that cherries were cut 
into the first roller, and that they had red 
dye on them. The leaves and stems were 
cut into the second roller, and covered with 
green dye. The twigs were cut into the 
third roller, with brown dye all over them. 

I wondered if some of the leaves, twigs 
and stems might not print themselves in 
the wrong place, but they never did. 

After I left the black dye roller I was 


THE CALICO’S STORY 


29 


dried, folded, and sent to a shop in a noisy 
city. There I lay on a shelf. 

One day a little country girl came into 
the store with a basket of eggs. She 
wanted to look at me. Just t hink , she 
gave the shopkeeper all of her eggs for 
eight yards of me. Then I was made up 
into a dress, with pretty ruffles at the neck 
and sleeves. I gave much joy to the little 
gfirl, who always liked to wear dainty things. 

On her way to and from school she used 
to sit upon a log to rest. Here I used to 
watch the plants which gfrew near, but they 
were very unlike my old self. They did not 
grow in a warm country. What I eryoyed 
most of all was a river which flowed near 
and sang the same song as my old friend 
had sung. 


Copyright by The Youth’* Companion. 


THE NEW RED DRESS. 


A long time ago, when your grandfather 
and grandmother were children, there lived 
a little girl named Rachel. She had no 
playthings that came from the store. 

In place of a rocking-horse, her big 
brother, Joseph, had whittled for her a fine 
little trotting horse. She had a soft kitten 
to hold. She had a soft rag doll, with black 
eyes and red cheeks like her own. But 
none of her clothes came from the store, 
and her father made all her stout boots. 

One Thanksgiving Day little Rachel was 
feeling very happy, because she had a new, 
warm red dress to put on. The weather 
had grown quite cold. The brown cotton 
dress she wore in the summer had become 
thin and old. She was, first, to have her 
hair combed, and then to put on the new 
red dress. She would be ready when 
Uncle John and his family came to spend 
Thanksgiving. 

“ Oh, mother,” said Rachel, “ tell me the 

30 


THE NEW RED DRESS 


31 


story about my new red dress— the story 
you told me yesterday.” 

“Very well,” said mother. So she 
began ; 

“Last spring, when it was warm and 
pleasant, a wise little fairy knew that cold 
weather would come after a while. Then 
a little girl’s cotton dress would not be 
warm enough; so she said: ‘Where can 
I find something to make Rachel a new 
dress?’ 

“‘How would our petals do?’ said some 
bright red poppies that were growing in 
the garden. 

“‘Your color is just right,’ said the 
fairy, ‘but you will not last until winter.’ 

“‘How would my feathers do?’ sang 
robin red-breast. 

“ ‘ It would take a great many to make 
a dress,’ said the fairy, ‘and you could not 
spare them. No; we must look farther 

stm.’ 

“‘Maa-a, maa-a!’ said Nannie, the sheep. 
‘How I wish that I could lay off my coat. 
It is getting so warm. I am sure that 


32 


THE NEW RED DRESS 


another would grow before cold weather 
comes.’ 

“ ‘ If the color of your coat can be 
changed,’ said the fairy, ‘I believe it will 
be the best thing in the world for Rachel’s 
dress. But how am I to get it off?’ 

‘“We will help you,’ said some strong, 
sharp sheep shears. Snip, snap they went, 
until Nannie’s coat was all in a heap on the 
ground. 

“‘But the wool is so dirty,’ said the 
fairy. 

“‘Swish, swosh, swish,’ said some soap 
and water; ‘see what we can do.’ Sure 
enough, the wool was soon washed and 
clean. It hung drying in the sun, as white 
as snow. 

“‘How nice!’ said the fairy, ‘but that 
wool does not look very much like a dress 
yet. I wonder who will help me next.’ 

“ ‘Here we are,’ said some strong combs. 
Queer as it seems, the combs were called 
cards. Back and forth they went, until the 
wool was all combed out into long rolls. 
The rolls were nearly two feet long and 


THE NEW RED DRESS 


33 


about as big around as one of Rachel’s 
curls. 

“ The rolls were scarcely finished before 
‘z-z-z, z-z-z’ was heard in the attic. The 
spinning-wheel had begun to spin some of 
the rolls of wool into yarn. The wheel 
hummed and worked day after day until 
many skeins of soft, white yarn had been 
made. They hung beside the kitchen fire- 
place. 

“ ‘ S-s-s, s-s-s ! ’ hissed the big brass 
dyeing kettle. ‘Put the skeins in here and 
see what will happen to them!’ In went 
the white skeins, and out came red ones as 
bright as the gay summer poppies. 

“The fairy was just thinking what 
wonderful things had been done, when 
‘Slam, bang!’ was heard in the room 
above. 

“‘See what my shuttle can do with the 
yam,’ said the great loom. When the yam 
had been placed in the frame, back and 
forth flew the shuttle. By the end of the 
day, a long roll of cloth was lying on the 
back part of the loom. 


34 


THE NEW RED DRESS 


“‘That begins to look like a dress,’ said 
the fairy. ‘Now, who will finish it ?’ 

“‘Here we are,’ sang a pair of sharp 
scissors. ‘Sister Needle and myself belong 
to the Steel family, and we are very bright 
and sharp. We can do wonderful work.’ So 
they went to work at once. They worked 
so fast that soon, in place of the cloth, there 
was a pretty, red dress. It had two sleeves, 
a waist, and a skirt. It was all ready for 
Rachel to put on.’’ 

“What a lovely story!” said Rachel, 
when mother had finished. Her hair was 
all combed and curled now ; so Rachel put 
on the new red dress and went downstairs 
to open the door for Uncle John. 


Copyright by the Kindergarten Review. 


THE LITTLE GRAY GRANDMOTHER. 


Nobody knew from where she came, or 
where she went. All the children could 
have told you about her was that sometimes 
when they looked up from their play, there 
she stood. 

It was her soft, misty cloak and shadowy 
gray veil they saw first. Sometimes they 
could scarcely see her face behind this veil. 
But if any one of them had been brave, and 
unselfish, there would be the Little Gray 
Grandmother. Then her face was qmte 
clear, smiling down on them 

There was a large family of them, and 
they had sharp eyes, too. But none of them 
ever saw her coming until she stood in the 
midst of them. 

They lived near the great sea, and the 
mist often covered the coast for miles and 
miles. Their city cousins laughed at them, 
and said the Little Gray Grandmother was 
only a bit of sea fog, left behind after a 
damp day. They knew better, though. 

35 


36 THE LITTLE GRAY GRANDMOTHER 

She never spoke to them, but sometimes 
she looked sad when she came upon one of 
them doing a mean or greedy thing. Oh, 
how stem her eyes were the day she found 
Wilhem telling a lie ! 

No one could make them believe she 
was only a dream, or a bit of sea fog. Had 
she not left the thimble for Mai, which 
pushed the needle so fast that a long seam 
was finished before you could say “Jack 
Robinson”? Who else brought the boots 
for Gregory, which helped him run so quickly 
on an errand ? Even his dog. Oyster, could 
not keep up with him when he wore them. 

They were all as certain as could be 
that she had given Doodle, when he was 
a baby, those soft, warm mittens. They 
were strange mittens that grew as he grew, 
and always just fitted his hands. Such 
wonderful mittens, too! On the coldest 
day aU Doodle had to do was to reach out 
his hand in his hearty, cheery way to any 
one. No matter how cold they were, they 
were sure to feel a warm glow at once. 

That was the way that Doodle got into 


THE LITTLE GRAY GRANDMOTHER 3) 

the way of looking out for all the lame dogs 
and sick cats ; and why aU the old people 
liked him so much. They said he made them 
feel young again. And Tom, and Wilhem, 
and the rest ; the Little Gray Grandmother 
had left a gift for each. 

Oh, they were a happy family ! What if 
they did have to eat herring and dry bread, 
with a few potatoes thrown in, all the year 
round— and live in a hut ? Didn’t they have 
a Little Gray Grandmother ? 

So, you may know how eagerly they 
were aU looking one day at something the 
Little Gray Grandmother had left for them 
in the sand. What could it be ? It glittered 
like the surface of a pool of water when the 
sun touches it. They could see their faces 
in it — oh, so clearly ! They decided to take 
it to the dear-mother. 

Ah, the dear-mother — who cooked, and 
sewed for them, and nursed them when 
they were ill, and was always ready to 
answer their questions — she would know. 
So they took the glittering thing in to her. 
She thought it was pretty. She always 


38 THE LITTLE GRAY GRANDMOTHER 

liked anything they brought in, if it were 
only a bit of sea weed or a star fish. She 
said it was made of precious metal, and 
perhaps the sea had washed it up. But the 
children said: “Oh, no; the Little Gray 
Grandmother left it.” 

At last they hung it up on the wall 
where every one might use it for a mirror ; 
but, oh, such strange sights as the children 
saw in it! It had a queer way of turning 
itself about toward the east or the west 
window, so the children could see as easily 
in the evening as in the morning light. One 
day when Mai was tired, and spoke crossly 
to the httle brothers, she looked in it. She 
saw the face of a grizzly bear reflected in 
the wonderful mirror. 

Gregory had a way of boasting about 
the things he was going to do. He often 
caught a glimpse of a rooster in the mirror, 
strutting about as if he owned the whole 
barnyard. Once little Beata came in ahead 
of the others. Finding some rosy apples the 
father had brought home, she took the very 
biggest and began to eat it. But the mirror 


THE LITTLE GRAY GRANDMOTHER 


39 


swung quickly around and showed her a 
greedy httle pig, eating a whole pile of 
apples. The picture made Beata so ashamed 
that she laid the apple down again. 

The pictures in the mirror were not all 
disagreeable ones. Sometimes they were 
beautiful. One bright summer day, Mai had 
given up her play to stay indoors and help 
the dear-mother. There, in the mirror, was 
a vision of a saint with a golden light about 
her head, smiling down on Mai. 

Once Gregory rowed little Beata across 
the bay. He did without his dinner that he 
might use his penny and pay for letting her 
climb the lighthouse stairs. When they came 
home at night Beata looked in the mirror. 
There she saw the good Saint Christopher 
wading a dark stream with the httle Christ 
Child on his shoulders. Somehow the face 
looked like Gregory’s, but when Beata 
cried, “Look!” the picture was gone at 
once. 

Again and again, when the children did 
a kind, or a truthful, or a loving thing, the 
mirror shone with a beautiful picture. And 


40 THE LITTLE GRAY GRANDMOTHER 

it faded if it were spoken of. Somehow it 
made them think of the glad look in the 
face of the Little Gray Grandmother when 
she found them playing happily together. 
Strange to say, the Little Gray Grand- 
mother never came again after the small, 
silver mirror was hung on the wall. 
Perhaps she knew that they did not need 
her any more. 

Adapted from Elizabeth Harrison’s “ In Storyland.” Reprinted by 
Miss Harrison’s permission. 


THE BIG RED APPLE. 

Bobby was a little boy, and he had a 
grandpa. 

One day Bobby’s grandpa sat by the fire 
while Bobby lay on the hearth rug, looking 
at a picture-book. 

“Ho, ho!” yawned grandpa, “I wish I 
had a big red apple! I could show you 
how to roast it, Bobby.” 

Bobby jumped up as quick as a flash. 
“I’ll get you one,” he said; and he picked 
up his hat and ran out of the house as 
fast as he could go. He knew where he 
had seen an apple tree away down the 
road — a tree all bright with big red 
apples. 

Bobby ran on by the side of the road, 
through the drifts of fallen leaves, red and 
yellow and brown. The leaves made a 
pleasant noise under his feet. At last he 
came to the big apple tree. But though 
Bobby looked and looked there was not an 
apple to be seen. There was not an apple 

41 


42 


THE BIG RED APPLE 


on the tree ; there was not an apple on the 
ground ! 

“ Oh,” cried Bobby, where have they all 
gone?” 

Then he heard a rustling through the 
dry leaves on the branches of the tree : 

“I haven’t an apple left, my dear. 

You’ll have to wait till another year.” 

Bobby was surprised. “But where have 
they all gone ? ” he asked again. The apple 
tree only sighed. So the httle boy turned 
away and started home across the fields. 

Pretty soon he met a pussy-cat. “Oh, 
pussy,” he cried ; “ do you know what they 
have done with the big red apples?” 

Pussy looked up at him, and then began 
rubbing against his legs, sa3dng : 

“Mew, mew, me-ew ! 

I haven’t a big red apple for you.” 

So Bobby went on, and at last he met a 
friendly dog. The dog stopped and wagged 
his tail, so the little boy said to him : 


THE BIG RED APPLE 


43 


“Oh, dog, can you tell me what they 
have done with the big red apples?” 

The dog kept on wagging his tail, and 
barked : 

“ Bow, wow, wow ! 

If I knew. I’d surely tell you now.” 

So the little boy went on until he came 
to a kind old cow who stood looking over 
the fence. 

“ Oh, mooly cow,” said Bobby, “ will you 
tell me what has become of the big red 
apples?” 

Mooly cow rubbed her nose against him, 
and said : 

“Moo! moo-o-o! 

I’d like a big red apple, too.” 

The little boy laughed, and he walked 
on till he came to the edge of the wood. 
There was a big, gray squirrel. 

“ Hello, gray squirrel,” said Bobby, “ can 
you tell me what has become of the big red 
apples?” 


44 


THE BIG RED APPLE 


The squirrel whisked his tail and looked 
at Bobby. 

“The farmer has hidden them all away, 

To eat on a pleasant winter’s day,” 

he chattered. Then the squirrel ran to the 
foot of a chestnut tree and began to fill his 
little pockets with shiny nuts to carry to 
his own storehouse. Bobby said: “Oh, thank 
you,” and ran up the hill to the farmer’s 
house as fast as he could go. The farmer 
was standing by the door, and he smiled 
when he saw Bobby. 

“ Good morning, my little man,” he said ; 
“ what can I do for you to-day ? ” 

“Please,” said Bobby, “I want a big red 
apple.” 

The farmer laughed. “ Come with me,” 
he said, “and you shall pick one out lor 
yourself.” 

So Bobby and the farmer walked out to 
the great barn. There Bobby saw many 
barrels standing in a row. Every barrel 
was fuU of big red apples ! 


THE BIG RED APPLE 


45 


“ Oh, what a lot ! ” said Bobby. “ Why 
did you pick them all ? ” 

“We didn’t want to leave them for Jack 
Frost,” said the farmer. 

“Does Jack Frost like apples?” asked 
Bobby. 

“He likes to pinch them,” said the 
farmer, “but we like to eat them; so we 
gather them in for the winter.” 

Bobby began to look about the bam. 
Near the barrels of red apples was another 
row of barrels all filled with green apples. 
Farther on was a great pile of golden 
pumpkins. Near that was a heap of green 
and yellow squashes, and another of turnips. 
And there were piles of yellow corn. 

“Are you keeping all these for winter ? ” 
asked Bobby. 

“Yes,” said the farmer; we have been 
gathering in the harvest. These are the 
good things that the summer has given 
us.” 

“And do the squirrels gather in a 
harvest, too ? ” asked Bobby. 

“They do,” said the farmer. 


46 


THE BIG RED APPLE 


“Then that was how he knew,” thought 
Bobby. 

Soon the little boy’s eyes began to 
shine. “Won’t you have lots of good things 
for Thanksgiving ! ” he said. “Pumpkin pie, 
and apple pie — and everything ! ” 

“Well,” said the good farmer, “ there is 
plenty to be thankful for right here. Did 
you say you wanted a red apple ? ” 

Bobby walked up to the barrel and 
picked out the biggest red apple he could 
find. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Parmer,” he said. 
Then he ran home to give the apple to his 
grandpa. 

“ Why, why,” said grandpa, “ where did 
you find it?” 

“ Oh,” said Bobby, “ I went to the apple 
tree, but it had no apples. Then I asked the 
cat where the big red apples were, but she 
didn’t know. I asked the dog, and he didn’t 
know. Then I asked the cow, and she 
didn’t know. Then I met the squirrel, and 
he knew because he gathers a harvest for 
himself. He told me to go to the farmer. 


THE BIG RED APPLE 


47 


I went to the fanner and asked him for a 
red apple, and he gave me this great big 
one.” 

"Well, well!” said grandpa, when Bobby 
stopped. “ Now bring me a bit of string.” 

Bobby found the string, and grandpa 
tied one end of it to the stem of the apple. 
He fastened the other end of the string to 
the mantel piece. 

There the apple hung over the fire. 

It turned and twisted, and twisted and 
turned, while Bobby and grandpa watched 
it. The juice came out, and the apple grew 
softer and softer. By and by, the apple was 
roasted. 

Then Bobby brought a plate and two 
spoons. He and grandpa sat before the fire, 
and they ate the big red apple. 


Copyright by the Kindergarten Review. 


APPLE-SEED JOHN. 


There was once a farmer who had 
worked in the fields all his life. Every year 
he had ploughed and planted and harvested, 
and no one near had raised such fine crops 
as he. 

It seemed as if he needed to only touch 
the corn to have it turn yellow and ripen 
upon the ear. If he laid his hand upon the 
rough bark of a tree one could be sure that 
the blossoms would show and the branches 
hang low with fruit. 

But, after years and years, the farmer 
grew to be an old man. His hair and beard 
became as white as the blossoms on the 
pear trees. His back was bent crooked, 
because he had worked so hard. 

He could only sit in the sunshine and 
watch some one else ploughing and planting 
the fields that he wanted so much to plough 
and plant. He felt very unhappy, because 
he wished to do something great for other 
people. He could not, for he was poor. 

48 


APPLE-SEED JOHN 


49 


But one morning he got down his stout 
cane from the chimney comer. He slung 
an empty bag over his crooked shoulders. 
Then he started out into the world, because 
he had thought of a good deed that even 
a poor old man could do. 

Over the meadows and through the 
lanes he traveled, stopping to speak to the 
little wild mice, or the crickets, or the chip- 
munks. They knew him and were never 
afraid when he went by. 

At every farmhouse he rested and 
rapped at the door and asked for — what 
do you think?— just a few apples! The 
farmers had so many apples that they were 
glad to give some of them away. The old 
man’s bag was soon full to the very brim. 

On and on he went, until he left the 
houses far behind, and took his way through 
the deep woods. At night he slept upon a 
bed of moss out under the stars. The 
prairie dogs barked in his ears, and the 
owls hooted in the tops of the trees. In the 
morning he started on his way again. 

When he was hungry he ate the berries 


so 


APPLE-SEED JOHN 


that grew in the woods, but not one of his 
apples— oh, no ! Sometimes an Indian met 
him , and they walked along together. At 
last the old man came to a place where 
there were wide fields, but no one to plant 
them, for there were no farms. 

Then he sat down and took out his jack- 
knife. He began carefully cutting the core 
from every apple in his bag. With his stout 
cane he bored deep holes in the earth. In 
every hole he dropped an apple core, to 
sleep there in the rain and the sun. When 
his bag was emptied he hurried on to a 
town where he could ask for more apples. 

Soon the farmers came to know him, 
and they called him old Apple-seed John. 
They gave him their very best apples for 
seed— the Pound Sweets, and the Sheep’s 
Noses, and the Pippins, and the Seek-no- 
Parthers. They saved clippings from the 
pear trees, and the plum trees, and the peach 
trees for him. They gave him the comer of 
the settle which was nearest the fire when 
he stopped with them for a night. 

Such wonderful stories as he told the 


APPLE-SEED JOHN 51 

children of the things he had seen in his 
travels. 

He told of the Indians with their gay 
blankets and feathers, the wolves who came 
out of the wood at night to look at him 
with their glaring eyes, the deer who ran 
across his path, and the shy httle hares. 

No one wished Apple-seed John to start 
on again the next morning, but he would 
never stay. With his bag over his shoulder, 
his clippings under his arm, and his cane in 
his hand, he hurried on. He planted young 
orchards by every river and in every lonely 
pasture. 

Soon the apple seeds that had been 
asleep when Apple-seed John had dropped 
them into the earth awoke and arose. They 
sent out green shoots, and began to be 
trees. Higher and higher they grew, until, 
in the wind and the sun, they covered the 
ground with blossoms, and then with ripe 
fruit. All the empty places in the country 
were full of orchards. 

After a while old Apple-seed John went 
to live with the angels, but no one forgot 


52 


APPLE-SEED JOHN 


him. When the children who had known 
him grew to be grandfathers themselves, 
they would sit out under his trees, and say 
to each other: “This orchard was planted 
by Apple-seed John.” 


THE ELDER BROTHER. 


He was one of a very large family living 
on a hiUy road near a white house. 

The people in this house, who wore 
funny pink dresses and pink sunbonnets 
and thick shoes, called his mother “That 
Beautiful Oak.” His mother smiled at the 
name, for she liked the sunbonnets and 
knew that they were friends who wore 
them. 

Near by were the children of a plump 
neighbor whom the pink sunbonnets called 
“Our Maple.” For companions there were 
the sunshine that came and went, and the 
rain that splashed over them. And, there 
was the tree family itself. So big a house- 
hold could never be lonely. At almost any 
hour of the day or night one who listened 
could hear a soft murmur. This meant that 
most of the children were trying to talk at 
once. 

All the time they talked and laughed 
they were growing up, with many twistings 
53 


54 


THE ELDER BROTHER 


and stretchings, into bigger and bigger 
children; and one day this special Elder 
Brother, — although they were all Elder 
Brothers, when you stop to think — felt 
something pressing againt his foot. He 
knew just what it was and what was 
coming. He stopped talking and listened. 

Presently he heard a wee, wee voice. 

“Elder Brother, Elder Brother,” it called, 
“you are standing on my head.” 

“I know it,” said Elder Brother, “and 
it is good for your head.” 

“But I want to get out.” 

“You can’t; it isn’t time.” 

“But I want to see the world.” 

“You will when you are old enough.” 

“When will that be?” 

“ Oh, by and by, when you have grown 
more, and we have changed our dresses.” 

“Will you tell me when it is time?” 

“Yes, Little Brother; now go to sleep 
and grow.” 

So Little Brother cuddled down quietly, 
and the weeks went by. Then, when he 
had had a nice long nap, he called out: 


THE ELDER BROTHER 


55 


“Elder Brother, Elder Brother, is it 
time ? ” 

And Elder Brother answered cheerily: 
“Not yet! The birds have not gone. The 
nights are still warm, and our dresses are 
still green. Sleep some more.” 

So Little Brother cuddled down again 
and more weeks went by. Then he called 
once more. 

“Elder Brother, Elder Brother,” he 
called, “is it time?” 

And Elder Brother answered cheerily: 
“Not quite yet. The apples are red. The 
winds are sharp at night. Some of us have 
begrun to change our dresses, but I have 
not. Wait just a httle longer.” 

Again Little Brother cuddled down and 
slept. This time it was Elder Brother who 
spoke first. 

“Little Brother, Little Brother,” he 
called, “ wake up ! It is time. My dress is 
all scarlet and yellow, and the wind is 
calling me. Wake up I ” 

Little Brother roused. “ Is it really time 
to go?” 


56 


THE ELDER BROTHER 


“Yes; I am going to leave you.” 

“Oh,” said Little Brother, “is that the 
way ? ” 

“Yes,” said Elder Brother, “that is the 
way.” 

“But I shall miss you,” said Little 
Brother. 

“No, you will not, for there is much to 
see. Besides, you will be an Elder Brother 
yourself. Before I go, let me tell you 
something. You must only peep at the 
world for a long time yet. Remember 
that. After many months there will come 
a soft wind telhng you it is spring. Then 
a sunbeam will call you, but be careful. 
Sometimes, while they are talking, wet 
snow will scurry around. Be patient and 
wait until you feel warm inside. Wait until 
your brothers and sisters look fat and pink, 
and the snow is all gone from the shady 
hollow. Then it will be time to put on 
your first dress. Good-bye, and good luck 
to you, Little Brother. I am off to try my 
fortune.” 

Little Brother felt something stretch 


THE ELDER BROTHER 


57 


and lift over his head. In another moment 
the light was shining down upon him. He 
knew he was out in the world at last. 

“Elder Brother, Elder Brother,” he 
called, "it is good to grow, and I am very 
happy. Are you happy ? ” 

“Yes,” came from far down the road, 
where Elder Brother was dancing and 
romping along. Several grown people, 
who saw him as he went, said: “What a 
beautiful oak leaf!” But one of the children 
in a pink sunbonnet picked him up. She 
knew that he was an Elder Brother. 
Looking at the base of the slender stem, 
she found a tiny hollow, as round as a 
cap, in which Little Brother had snuggled 
as he grew. 


Cop3n:ight by The Christian Register. 


WHO ATE THE DOLLS' DINNER? 


“Why can’t dolls have a Thanksgiving 
dinner as well as real folks?” asked Polly 
Pine. 

“I don’t know why,” said mamma, 
laughing ; “go and dress them in their best 
clothes, get the doll house swept and 
dusted, and the table ready. Then I will 
fix their dinner before we go downstairs.” 

“ Oh, how nice ! ” said Polly Pine. 

The doll house stood in the nursery. 
It was very large and very beautiful. It 
was painted red. It had tall chimneys, 
and a fine front door with “ R. Bliss ” on a 
brass plate. There were lace curtains at 
the windows, and two steps led up to the 
cunning little piazza. Polly Pine swept the 
rooms with her tiny broom and dusted 
them. Then she set the table in the dining- 
room with the very best dishes and the 
finest silver. She set a tiny vase in the 
middle of the table, with two violets in it. 
She put doll napkins at each plate, 

58 


WHO ATE THE DOLLS’ DINNER? 


59 


When the house was clean and ready, 
she dressed Lavinia in her pink mushn, and 
Dora Jane in her gray velvet, and Hannah 
Welch in her yellow silk. Then she seated 
them around the table, each one in her own 
chair. PoUy was just telling the dolls that 
they must not eat with their knives, or 
leave their teaspoons in their cups when 
they drank their tea, when the door opened. 
In came mamma with a real doll’s Thanks- 
giving dinner. 

There was a chicken-bone to put on 
the platter before Hannah Welch, for 
Hannah always did the carving. There 
were cunning little dishes of mashed potato 
and cranberry sauce, and some celery in 
a tiny tumbler, and a small squash pie 
baked in a patty pan. Polly Pine hopped 
up and down with delight when she saw 
the dolls’ dinner. She set everything on 
the table. Then she ran to put on her 
nicest muslin frock with the pink ribbons, 
and she went downstairs to her own 
dinner. 

There were gentlemen there for dinner— 


60 


WHO ATE THE DOLLS’ DINNER? 


gentlemen Polly was very fond of — and 
she had a nice time visiting with one of 
them. He could change his table-napkin 
into a white rabbit. She forgot all about 
the dolls’ Thanksgiving dinner until it was 
dessert-time, and the nuts and raisins 
came in. 

Then Polly remembered. She jumped 
down from her chair and asked mamma if 
she might go upstairs and see if the dolls 
had eaten their dinner. 

The front door of the house was open, 
and there sat the dolls just as their little 
mistress had left them. But they had eaten 
nearly all the dinner ! Everything was 
gone except the potato and the cranberry 
sauce. The chicken leg was picked bare, 
and the bread was nibbled, and the little 
pie was eaten all around. 

“Well, this is strange,” said papa. 

Just then they heard a funny, scratching 
noise in the doll house. A little gray mouse 
jumped out from under the table. He ran 
out of the front door of the doll house, and 
over the piazza, and down the steps before 


WHO ATE THE DOLLS’ DINNER? 6l 

you could say “Jack Robinson.” In a 
minute he was gone— nobody knew where. 

There was another tiny mouse in the 
doll house under the parlor sofa. There 
was a third mouse under Lavinia’s bed, 
with its poor, frightened, gray tail sticking 
out. They all got away safely. Papa would 
not allow mamma to go for the cat. He 
said: 

“Why can’t a poor little mouse have a 
Thanksgiving dinner as well as we?” 

Copyright by Good Housekeeping. 


MAKING THE BEST OF IT 


“What a dreary day this is!” said the 
old gray goose to the brown hen. They 
stood at the henhouse window and watched 
the falling snow. It covered every nook 
and comer of the farmyard. 

“Yes, indeed,” said the brown hen; “I 
would be almost willing to be made into 
chicken pie on such a day.” 

She had scarcely stopped talking, 
when the Pekin duck said fretfully: “I am 
dreadfully hungry.” Then a little flock of 
speckled chickens all huddled together 
peeped: “And we are so thirsty!” 

In fact, the feathered folks in the hen- 
house were cross and discontented. Since 
the farmer’s boy had fed them, early in the 
morning, they had been given nothing to 
eat or drink. Hour after hour went by. 
The cold winter wind howled around their 
house. It is no wonder that they felt 
deserted. 

The handsome white rooster, though, 
62 


MAKING THE BEST OF IT 


63 


seemed quite as happy as usual. That is 
saying a great deal, for a jollier, better^ 
natured old fellow than he never lived in 
a farmyard. Sunshine, rain, or snow were 
all the same to him. He crowed quite as 
lustily in stormy as in fair weather. 

“Well,” he said, as his bright eyes 
glanced about the henhouse, “ you aU seem 
to be having a fit of the dumps.” 

Nobody answerd the white rooster, but 
a faint cluck or two came from some hens. 
At once they put their heads back under 
their wings, as if ashamed of having spoken 
at all. 

This was quite too much for the white 
rooster. He stood first on one yellow foot 
and then on the other. He turned his head 
from side to side, and said: “Well, we are 
a lively set ! Any one would think, to look 
in here, that we were surrouded by a band 
of hungry foxes.” 

Just then a daring httle bantam rooster 
hopped down from his perch. He strutted 
over to the big rooster, and said; 

“We are all lively enough when our 


64 


MAKING THE BEST OF IT 


crops are full, but when we are starving 
the wonder is that we can hold our heads 
up at all. If I ever see that farmer’s boy 
again— I’ll peck his foot!” 

“You won’t see him until he feeds us,” 
said the white rooster, “and then I guess 
you will peck his com.” 

“ Oh, oh ! ” moaned the brown hen, 
“don’t mention a peck of com.” 

“Madam,” remarked the white rooster, 
bowing politely, “your trouble is my own. 
I am hungry, too. But we might be worse 
off. We might be on our way to market 
in a box. Then, too, suppose we haven’t 
had enough to eat to-day; at least we 
have room enough to stretch our wings.” 

“Why, that is a fact,” answered the 
brown hen; and all the feathered family — 
the smallest chickens included — stretched 
their wings. They preened their feathers 
and looked a trifle happier. 

“Now, then,” went on the rooster, 
“suppose we have a little music. It will 
cheer us and help pass the hours until 
roosting time. We ■will sing a merry song. 



“ Cock-a-doodle-doo!” This comes of making the 
best of things.” 


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MAKING THE BEST OF IT 


65 


Will you be kind enough to start a lively 
tune, Mrs. Brown Hen?” 

The brown hen shook herseli proudly. 
She tossed her head back, and began: 
“Cut-cut~cut-ca-dak-cut.” In less than two 
minutes every one in the hen-house had 
joined her. 

Now the horses, and the sheep were 
not far away. Hearing the happy voices 
in the hen-house, they, too, joined in the 
grand chorus. And the pigs did their best 
to sing louder than all the rest. Higher 
and higher, stronger and stronger, rose 
the song. Louder and louder quacked the 
ducks. Shriller and shriller squeaked the 
pigs. 

They were all so happy that they quite 
forgot their hunger until the door of the 
hen-house burst open. In came three 
children, each carrying a dish full of 
steaming chicken food. 

“Don’t stop your music, Mr. Rooster,” 
said the little girl. She was so snugly 
bundled up that you could scarcely see 
her dear little face. “You see, we were so 


66 MAKING THE BEST OF IT 

lonesome that we didn’t know what to do. 
But when we heard you singing out here in 
your house, we laughed and laughed until 
we pretty nearly cried. Then we went to 
tell Jack about you. He was lonesome, too. 
Poor Jack is sick with a sore throat. And 
he said : ‘ Why, those poor hens ; they 
haven’t been fed since morning!’” 

“ Cock-a-doodle-doo I ” said the white 
rooster. “This comes of making the best of 
things. Oock-a-doodle-doo I ” and nobody 
asked him to stop crowing. 


Copyright by The CXitlook Co. 


GRANDFATHER’S PENNY 


Once upon a time, when it was so long 
ago that there were no trolley cars or 
telephones, Grandfather was a little, little 
boy named John. 

He lived in a small red farmhouse set 
in the middle of wide fields. There were 
woods all about, and only a cow path to 
walk in across the meadows until you came 
to the stage road. 

In the summer Grandfather used to 
have the best time, for he knew the places 
where the biggest blackberries grew, and 
he could find the patches of checker-berries 
in the woods. He knew where the brook 
ran swiftest to sail his boats, and he could 
climb the tallest apple tree that ever grew. 

But in the winter it was quite different. 
Then Grandfather wore a little cap made 
of coonskin, and a bright-green tippet, and 
a home-spun suit, and a pair of hide boots. 
It was always very cold in the country in 
the winter time. Grandfather had to walk 


67 


es 


GRANDFATHER’S PENNY 


two miles to the schoolhouse, with his little 
tin dinner pail hung over his arm. When 
school was over, he must hurry home to 
help with the chores. There were kindlings 
to split, and the cows to feed, and paths to 
shovel. 

At night he was a tired little boy and 
he tumbled upstairs to bed in the attic. 
The attic walls were hung with strings of 
dried apples. The spinning-wheel in the 
comer pointed its long finger at him, until 
he pulled the patchwork quilt high up over 
his cold little nose and went fast asleep. 

One morning when Grandfather woke 
up, and jumped into his clothes, and hurried 
down to the kitchen, he found that a 
dreadful thing had happened. The fire in 
the fireplace had gone out over-night, and 
nobody could set it going again. They had 
no matches in those days, and the tinder 
box was lost. The water in the tea-kettle 
was ice. There could be no breakfast until 
the fire burned once more. 

“You will have to take the lantern, 
John,” said Great Grandmother, “and go to 


GRANDFATHER’S PENNY 


69 


Mr. Stone’s for a light. I am sorry, little 
lad. Pull your cap down over your ears, 
and hurry.” 

So Grandfather took the big brass 
lantern and hurried off in the early 
morning, across the snowy fields, for a 
light. It was so biting cold that not even 
the wood rabbits were out. Grandfather’s 
toes ached, and he had to blow on his 
fingers to keep them from freezing. 

It was a mile to Mr. Stone’s! But he 
reached there at last. He lighted his lan- 
tern at Mr. Stone’s fireplace. He carried it 
home very carefully, that the flame might 
not go out. Then Great Grandmother 
started the fire. She boiled the water in 
the tea-kettle, and they had breakfast. 

When the kitchen was warm, and 
breakfast was over. Great Grandmother 
went to the blue china mug on the 
chimney-piece. She took out of it a big 
copper penny as large as a silver doUar. 

“This is for you, John,” she said. “You 
had a long walk this morning. You may 
buy yourself a peppermint stick.” 


70 


GRANDFATHER’S PENNY 


Oh, how Grandfather’s eyes danced! 
Pennies were few in the little red farm- 
house, and he remembered how red and 
twisted the peppermint sticks looked in the 
glass jar at the store. He had wished for 
one all winter. 

So he started out early for school 
because the store was such a long way 
off the road. He skipped along, with his 
penny held fast in his little red mitten. He 
was thinking how good the peppermint 
stick was going to taste. 

The snow was deep, and Grandfather 
had to wade through the drifts, and climb 
the fences. One snow bank was so high 
that it came up to his waist, but he didn’t 
mind. There was the store at the cross- 
roads. Grandfather opened his little red 
fist to look at the penny. But where was 
it? The penny was not there at all; it 
was gone. Grandfather had dropped his 
penny in the deep snow bank! 

Poor little boy ! All the morning, as he 
sat on the hard bench in the schoolhouse, 
sa 3 nng his A B A3’s and writing pothooks 


GRANDFATHER’S PENNY 


71 


in his copy book, he had to squeeze back 
the tears. And when he went home, Great 
Grandmother said that she was sorry, but 
there were no more pennies in the blue 
china mug. She did not know when he 
could have another. Grandfather took his 
shovel and dug all around in the snow 
bank, but he could not find his penny. 

The winter was very long; but one 
day the red-winged blackbirds came back 
to sing in the south pasture. The song- 
sparrows twittered in the swamp. The 
blue flag blossomed, and it was spring. 
Grandfather laid away his coon-skin cap, 
and began making willow whistles. He 
forgot all about his penny. 

One morning he took a basket of eggs 
to the store, to change them for sugar and 
tea. He went the same way that he had 
gone that other morning ; and he was just as 
happy as he skipped along down the road. 

“Here is the place where the big snow 
bank was,” he said, “right in this fence 
corner, but it is all melted now. Why-ee, 
here’s my penny 1 ” 


72 


GRANDFATHER’S PENNY 


Yes, there it was — sticking up out of 
the mud. It was not bright and shining 
any more, but a good copper penny just 
the same. All winter it had been waiting 
there for Grandfather to take it to the 
store and buy a peppermint stick. 

And this is the true story of how 
Grandfather bought his peppermint stick, 
after all. And this is the reason why 
Grandfather gives you so many pennies, — 
because he remembers how he was a little 
boy, once, with only just one. 


THE PINE TREE 


In the woods there lived a nice little 
Pine Tree. He stood where the sun and 
the fresh air could get at him. Around 
him grew many comrades — other pines and 
big firs. But the little Pine wished so much 
to be a grown-up tree. 

Sometimes the cottage children ran 
near the little Tree to hunt for wild 
strawberries and raspberries. They would 
sit down near to his roots and say : “ Oh, 
what a nice little fellow ! ” And the Tree 
could not bear to hear them say this. 

In a year he shot up a good deal, and 
the next year he was still taller. Yet, when 
it was winter and the snow lay ghttering 
about, a little Hare would come leaping 
along. The Hare would jump right over 
the little Tree. Oh, it made him so angry ! 

“I wish I were as tall as the others,” 
cried the little Tree. “Then I could look 
out into the wide world.” 

In the fall the wood-cutters always 
73 


74 


THE PINE TREE 


came and cut down some of the tallest trees 
in the forest. The trees fell to the earth 
with noise and cracking. The branches 
were cut off, and the trunks were drawn 
off in sledges. 

“ I wonder where they go,” thought the 
little Pine Tree, and he asked the Swallow 
and the Stork about it. 

“Yes, we have met them,” said the 
Stork. “They are made into new ships 
which flit across the water.” 

“Oh, I wish I were old enough to fly 
across the sea,” sighed the little Pine Tree. 

When Christmas came, the youngest 
trees were cut down, and these always kept 
their branches. They, also, were carried 
away from the forest in sledges. The little 
Tree wondered very much what became of 
them. 

“ Oh, we know,” chirped the Sparrows. 
“We peeped in the windows down in the 
town. We saw them standing in warm 
rooms, all dressed up with gilded apples, 
and gingerbread, and toys, and hundreds 
of lights.” 


THE PINE TREE 


75 


“Ah!” cried the little Tree, “perhaps 
some day, I shall sparkle, too, like that.” 

So he stood, a rich green in the forest, 
through the winter and the summer, and 
grew and grew. Everybody looked at him. 

“What a fine tree!” they said. Toward 
Christmas they cut him down with an axe, 
close to the ground. 

When he came to himself he was being 
carried into a large and splendid room. He 
trembled with joy as they stuck hiTn into 
a cask filled with sand and wrapped the 
cask all about with green cloth, that it 
might not show. On one branch they 
hung httle nets cut out of colored paper. 
There were gilded apples and walnuts hung 
everywhere. More than a hundred colored 
tapers were stuck into the ends of his 
twigs. There were wonderful dolls that 
looked, for all the world, hke real persons, 
and they fluttered among the branches. 
On the very top was fixed a large, gold 
star. 

“Oh,” thought the little Tree, “now I 
am splendid. I wonder if the other trees 


76 


THE PINE TREE 


from the forest will come and look at me. 
I wonder if the Sparrows will beat against 
the window-panes. I wonder if I shall stay 
dressed like this all summer.” 

But the candles were lighted and a troop 
of merry children rushed in. They shouted 
and danced about the Tree, and they pulled 
the presents from off the branches. 

“What are they about?” thought the 
Tree. 

And the lights burned down to the 
very branches. The children danced about 
with their pretty toys, and then they all 
sat down under the Tree and cried: “A 
story ! a story ! ” 

So a queer, jolly little man told them 
the fairy story. He told how Klumpy 
Dumpy tumbled down stairs and came to 
the throne, after all, and married the 
princess. 

“This is all quite strange,” thought the 
Rne Tree, and he stood very still and 
thoughtful. “The Sparrows never told me 
anything like this. Perhaps I shall tumble 
down stairs, too, and so get the princess.” 


THE PINE TREE 


77 


And he waited with joy for the morning, 
when he should again be decked with 
candles and toys. 

But the next day they dragged him up 
the stairs to the attic. They left him in a 
comer, where no daylight could enter. 

“What shall I hear or see, now?” said 
the Tree, as he leaned against the wall and 
thought and thought. “The earth is hard 
and covered with snow. How thoughtful 
the people are! They have put me here 
under cover to stay until the spring, and 
then they will plant me.” 

“ Squeak I squeak I ” said a little Mouse, 
peeping at that moment out of his hole. 
Another little one came out. They sniffed 
at the Pine Tree and rustled among his 
branches. 

“It is dreadfully cold,” said the httle 
Mouse. “Where do you come from, old 
Pine Tree ?” 

Then the Pine Tree told the Mice about 
the woods, where the sun shone and the 
little birds sang. He told his story from his 
youth up ; and about Christmas eve, when 


78 


THE PINE TREE 


he was decked out with cake and candles. 
The little Mice had never heard the like 
before. 

The next night they came with four 
other Mice to hear what the Tree had to 
tell. They sat about and told him of a 
wonderful larder they knew, where cheeses 
lay on the shelves and hams hung from 
above. There, one danced about on tallow 
candles, and went in lean and came out 
fat. So the Tree, not to be outdone, 
told the story of Klumpy Dumpy, who 
married a princess. Next night two more 
Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats, 
even. 

But one morning there came a number 
of people to the attic. The trunks were 
moved and the Tree was pulled out and 
taken down the stairs once more. So he 
felt the fresh air and the first sunbeam. 

“Now I shall be planted ! ” he said with 
joy, as he spread wide his branches. But, 
dear, dear, his branches were all dry and 
yellow! He lay in a comer among the 
weeds and nettles, with the golden star still 


THE PINE TREE 


79 


hanging upon his topmost branch, shining 
in the sunlight. 

In the courtyard were some of the 
merry children who had danced about the 
Tree on Christmas Day; and they were 
very glad to see him again. They began 
dancing around him as he stood in his 
comer there— among the nettles. But the 
gardener’s boy came and chopped the Tree 
into a whole heap of small pieces. He set 
fire to them, and the children ran to where 
it lay. They sat down before the fire, and 
peeped into the blaze. 

And the Tree thought once more of the 
summer days in the wood and the winter 
night when the stars shone. He thought 
of the Sparrows and the Hare. He remem- 
bered the toys and the Christmas candles 
and the story of Klumpy Dump — the only 
fairy story that he had ever heard. And 
so the little Tree burned out. 


TINY TIM 


It was Christmas Day, and the Cratchit 
family were going to have a most won- 
derful dinner. Some other days, they had 
scarcely enough to eat, for they were a 
large family. Work as hard as Father Bob 
Cratchit could, there was often not enough 
to go around. There were Mother Cratchit, 
and Martha who worked in the milliner’s 
shop, and Belinda who helped at home, and 
Peter, and the two little Cratchits, and last 
of all. Tiny Tim. Alas for Tiny Tim! He 
bore always a little crutch and had his 
limbs supported by an iron frame! But, 
although he was only a httle, little child. 
Tiny Tim was patient and mild, and they 
loved him more than all the rest. And it 
was Christmas Day. 

Mother Cratchit and Belinda laid the 
cloth. Peter blew the fire untU the slow 
potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at 
the saucepan lid to be let out and peeled. 
The two little Cratchits came tearing in to 
80 


TINY TIM 


81 


say that outside, at the baker’s, they had 
smelled a goose and knew it for their very 
own. Martha came home. Last of all, in 
came little Bob, the father, wrapped up 
in three feet of muffler. His threadbare 
clothes were darned and brushed to look 
seasonable. Tiny Tim was on his shoulder. 

“And how did little Tim behave?” 
asked Mother Cratchit. 

"As good as gold,” said Bob, “ and 
better,” setting Tiny Tim carefully down. 
The two little Cratchits took him off to 
the wash-house, that he might hear the 
pudding singing in the copper. 

“He told me coming home that he 
hoped the people saw him in the church, 
because he was a cripple. It might be 
pleasant for them to remember, upon 
Christmas Day, Who made lame beggars 
to walk and blind men to see.” 

Bob’s voice trembled, and it trembled 
more as he said he thought Tiny Tim was 
growing very strong and well. 

But they heard the sound of Tiny Tim’s 
crutch upon the floor and they helped him 


82 


TINY TIM 


over to his stool by the fire. Then the two 
little Oratchits went out to the baker’s to 
fetch the goose. Mother Cratchit made 
the gravy hissing hot. Peter mashed the 
potatoes. Belinda sweetened the apple 
sauce. Martha dusted the hot plates. Bob 
took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner 
at the table. The two little Oratchits, come 
home with the goose, set chairs for every- 
body, cramming spoons in their mouths 
lest they should shriek for goose before it 
came their turn to be served. 

There never was such a goose! Bob 
said he didn’t believe there ever was such 
a goose cooked. With the apple sauce and 
the mashed potatoes there was enough 
dinner for the whole family. Indeed, 
Mother Cratchit said, as she looked at one 
small bone upon the dish: “We have not 
eaten it all, at last.” The little Oratchits 
were steeped in sage and onions to the eye- 
brows, Then Belinda changed the plates 
and Mother Cratchit left the room, alone, 
to take up the pudding and bring it in ! 

Suppose it should not be done. Suppose 


TINY TIM 


83 


it should break. Suppose some one had 
come over the back wall and stolen it 
while they were making merry with the 
goose. Hello ! a great deal of steam. The 
pudding was out of the copper. A smell 
like a washing-day! That was the cloth. 
A smell like an eating-house and a pastry 
cook’s next door to each other, with a 
laundress next door to that! That was 
the pudding. 

In half a minute Mother Cratchit 
entered with the pudding like a speckled 
cannon-ball, so hard and firm, and blazing, 
and with Christmas holly stuck into the 
top ! Everybody had something to say 
about it, but nobody thought it at all a 
small pudding for a large family. Any 
Cratchit would have blushed to hint at 
such a thing. 

At last the dinner was all done, the 
cloth was cleared, the hearth swept and 
the fire made up. A pile of apples and 
oranges was put upon the table. A 
shovelful of chestnuts upon the fire began 
at once to sputter and crackle noisily. All 


84 


TINY TIM 


the Oratchit family drew around the hearth, 
and Tiny Tim sat very close to his father’s 
side upon his little stool. Bob held his 
withered little hand in his, for he loved the 
child, and he said : 

“A merry Christmas to us all, my dears ; 
God bless us ! ” 

“ Merry Christmas ! Merry Christmas ! ” 
said all the Cratchit family. 

And: “God bless us — every one!” said 
Tiny Tim, the last of all. 


LITTLE OOSETTE 


Montfermiel was a little village in 
Prance. There were large houses there, 
and small houses, and shops, and a little 
church. It would have been a pleasant 
place to live, only for one thing. There 
was no water to be had in Montfermiel. 
One had to go a long, long way and fetch 
it in a bucket from the spring. 

In one of the very large houses — so 
large that peddlers could stop there at 
night and sleep— lived Oosette. She was 
only a tiny little girl, but she had no mother 
to love her and no one to buy her food 
and clothes. She took the place of a maid- 
servant in the house. There were Madame 
Thernardier and Father Thernardier, and 
their two little girls, Eponine and Azelma. 
They were all happy and gay, but not one 
of them all was kind to little Oosette. 

She was so thin and ragged and 
unhappy that they called her Toad. All 
day long she ran upstairs and downstairs. 

85 


86 


LITTLE COSETTE 


She washed, and swept, and scrubbed, and 
dusted, and fluttered about, and did all the 
hard work. It was Oosette’s place, also, to 
go with the heavy bucket to the spring for 
water, even when it was night. No one 
ever said “thank you” to her. Madame 
Thernardier only scolded her, or struck her 
for not hurrying faster. 

It was one Christmas eve that this story 
is about. Father Themardier’s large house 
was full of peddlers stopping for the night, 
and they sat about the kitchen fire smoking. 
Little Eponine and Azelma were playing 
happily with the kitten, but little Oosette 
was not allo^red to play. She sat on the 
cross-bar of the kitchen table near the 
chimney comer. She was all in rags and 
her little bare feet were thrust into wooden 
shoes. She was knitting woolen stockings 
for Eponine and Azelma. All at once one 
of the peddlers jumped up. “My horse has 
had no water,” he said. 

Little Cosette began knitting faster, 
but her heart jumped like a big snow- 
flake. 


LITTLE COSETTE 


87 


“ My horse has not been watered,” said 
the peddler once more. 

“Well,” said Madame Thernardier, 
“where is the Toad?” 

She looked down and saw little 
Cosette hiding under the table. 

“Are you coming?” called Madame 
Thernardier. 

Cosette crawled out and went for the 
empty bucket in the chimney corner. The 
bucket was nearly as large as she. 

“ Toad, on your way back you will buy 
a big loaf at the baker’s,” said Madame 
Thernardier. “Here is the money. Go 
along, now.” 

Cosette had a little pocket in her apron 
and she put the money in it. Then she 
went out, and the door was closed behind 
her. 

Across the road were the shops all gay 
with the Christmas gifts. The very last in 
the row was a toy shop glittering with 
tinsel and glass and pretty objects of tin. 
In the very front of the window stood an 
immense doll nearly two feet high. She 


88 


LITTLE COSETTE 


wore a pink silk robe. She had gold wheat 
ears on her head. She had real hair and 
enamel eyes. All day she had smiled out 
upon the little girls, but no mother in all 
Montfermiel was rich enough to buy her. 

Poor little Cosette went across the road 
and set down her bucket to look at the 
doll. 

“She is a lady,” she said softly to her- 
self. “And the shop is her palace. The 
small dolls— they are the fairies. The toy 
man perhaps is as kind as the Eternal 
Father.” 

But she heard Madame Themardier’s 
voice calling to her : “ What are you doing 
there ? Go along. Toad, and fetch the 
water or I shall be after you.” 

So Cosette picked up her bucket again 
and ran as fast as she could. At last she 
was no longer able to see the lights from 
the toy shops. It was quite dark. 

The farther she went the darker it 
grew. There was no one in the streets. At 
last she came to the open fields, and the 
darkness seemed full of beasts walking in 


UTTLE COSETTE 


89 


the grass and shadows moving in the trees. 
She ran through the woods and came to 
the spring. But as she leaned over and 
plunged the bucket down, down, and then 
drew it up full again, the money for the 
loaf fell from her pocket. It went splashing 
down into the water below. 

Oosette did not hear it fall. She sat 
down in the grass too tired to move. Then 
she remembered that Madame Thernardier 
was waiting, and she started for the village 
again. 

Oh, it was cold ! The bucket was very 
heavy, and little Oosette walked like an 
old woman. The handle froze to her tiny 
fingers, and the cold water splashed down 
on her little bare legs. No one but God 
saw that sad thing — and her mother, 
perhaps. 

Yet, suddenly, the bucket was not quite 
so heavy. Some one had taken hold of the 
handle, and a kind voice said : 

“My child, what you are carr3ring is too 
heavy for you.” 

“Yes, sir,” said little Oosette. 


90 


LITTLE COSETTE 


“Give it to me,” said the man; “I will 
carry it for you. Have you far to go ?” he 
went on. 

“A long way farther, sir,” said little 
Cosette. 

With one hand the man held little 
Cosette’s cold fingers close in his, and they 
went on together. Little Cosette was not 
in the least afraid. She told the stranger 
all about how pretty Eponine and Azelma 
were, and the hard work, and how she had 
no mother. 

“What do those little girls do ?” asked 
the stranger. 

“Oh,” said Cosette, “they have beautiful 
dolls ; they play all day long.” 

“And what do you do?” asked the 
stranger. 

“Sometimes I play,” said little Cosette. 
“I have a little leaden sword, I wrap it in 
a cloth, and rock it to sleep when no one 
sees.” 

Soon they passed the shops. “ Why are 
the windows lighted ? ” asked the stranger. 

“It is Christmas eve,” said Cosette. 


LITTLE COSETTE 


91 


When they reached the house Madame 
Themardier was waiting to scold little 
Cosette for being so long. “Where is the 
bread?” she cried. 

Little Cosette had forgotten the bread. 
She turned her pocket inside out. What 
had become of the money ? Madame Ther- 
nardier was about to strike Cosette, but 
the kind stranger stepped up to her. 

“Here is money,” he said. “When I 
return I will stay at your house for the 
night.” 

Then the man went straight to the 
street door, opened it, and stepped out. 
When he opened it again he carried the 
wonderful toy-shop doll in his arms; the 
same doll, with her pink silk robe, the gold 
wheat ears on her head, the real hair and 
the enamel eyes! 

“This is for you, little one,” he said to 
Cosette. 

Little Cosette crept out from under the 
table. Her eyes filled with tears, but they 
shone with joy, too, like the sky at day- 
broaJs. 


92 


LITTLE COSETTE 


“May I touch it?” she asked timidly. 
“Is the Lady mine?” 

There were tears in the stranger’s eyes, 
also. “Yes, she is yours,” he said again. 
“Tomorrow you shall come with me and 
be my little girl.” And he put the doll’s 
fingers in little Oosette’s tiny hand. 


HOW OEDRIO BECAME A KNIGHT 


A long time ago, in a small stone hut, 
at the foot of a high hill, there lived a little 
boy named Cedric. At the top of the hill 
there stood a grand old castle. The little 
boy used to watch the strong iron gate 
rise slowly from the ground as the brave 
knights rode out of the castle courtyard. 
It was a gay sight when the sun lighted 
their helmets and shone upon their brave 
faces. Their horses, even, seemed proud to 
carry them. Little Cedric thought nothing 
was so beautiful to see as the knights riding 
down the hill. 

One day Cedric was plajong with the 
kitten. The queer httle thing went out into 
the middle of the dusty road and curled 
herself up for a nap. Suddenly Cedric saw 
five knights galloping down the hill and the 
kitten was still fast asleep in the highway. 
He jumped out and gathered the kitten in 
his arms just before the horses swept by. 

As they passed, one of the knights 
93 


94 


HOW CEDRIC BECAME A KNIGHT 


smiled down upon Cedric and said : “ My 
little boy, you are brave enough to be a 
knight some day.” 

As Cedric went into the house he 
repeated softly to himself : “ To be a knight 
some day.” He ate his supper of bread 
and milk, and undressed for bed, just as he 
did every night. But when he went to 
sleep he dreamed of being the bravest 
knight in the whole world. He would 
rescue a beautiful princess from an ugly 
giant who had shut her up in a dungeon. 

In the morning he fed the doves, and 
watered the cows, and brought hay for the 
horses. He helped his mother with the 
housework, and at last he said: “Do you 
think I could ever grow up to be a knight, 
mother ? ” 

His mother smiled and said: “Knights 
have many hard things to do. You are 
only a very little boy, Cedric. Run out to 
play.” 

One evening, when it was summer time, 
Cedric stood in the doorway. He heard 
the tramp of horses’ feet, and he saw a gay 



“Thank you,” said the soldier, “you are as courteous 
as a knight.” 




HOW CEDRIC BECAME A KNIGHT 


9S 


party of horsemen coming. His face lighted 
with a gay smile. It was Sir Rollin du 
Bois and his soldiers riding home from the 
king’s war. As they rode nearer he saw 
that even the tallest knight looked weary. 
One of them stopped and said: “Little 
man, will you give me a drink of cold 
water?” 

Cedric ran and filled a cup at the 
spring. 

“Thank you,” said the soldier; “you 
are as courteous as a knight, my boy.” 

Cedric ran to tell his mother. He asked 
again: “Mother dear, can I ever be a 
knight?” 

After many months a wonderful thing 
happened. One day Cedric’s father came 
in from his work and said : “ Sir Rollin 
wishes a lad to come to the castle as a 
page. May Cedrio go, mother?” 

Cedric’s heart nearly stopped beating, 
until his mother said slowly: “Yes.” She 
made a bundle of his few clothes that very 
afternoon, and his father took him up the 
steep hill to the castle gate. 


96 


HOW CEDRIC BECAME A KNIGHT 


The iron gate slowly lifted. They 
crossed the drawbridge and the courtyard. 
They went into one of the castle rooms 
where the walls and ceilings and floor were 
all stone. 

“You would like to be a knight, my 
lad ? ” asked Sir Rollin, after he had talked 
with Cedric’s father. “You will not mind 
hard tasks, and you will be brave and 
true? It will take many years.” 

“I will try,” said Cedric. 

So he bade his father good-bye and he 
went with an older boy up a flight of stone 
steps to a tiny room. He was to sleep for 
the night upon a pile of straw with only a 
sheepskin to cover him. 

That night his supper was coarse rye 
bread and a bowl of broth, and in the 
morning his lessons began. He had to 
learn how to stand straight, and run very 
fast, and jump on or off a horse when it 
was galloping, and throw a spear straight 
at a mark. Above all, he must go quickly 
when Sir Rollin called, and do an errand 
faithfully and well. 


HOW CEDRIC BECAME A KNIGHT 


97 


After years and years Cedric grew 
large and tall. One day Sir Rollin came 
to him and said: “Cedric, you are to take 
a letter to the king. It must reach him 
quickly. Take my gray horse and ride 
swiftly. Remember how much I trust 
you.” 

Cedric’s heart beat with joy to know 
that Sir Rollin had chosen him for a 
messenger from all the pages. He was 
ready in half an hour. He jumped on the 
gray horse and galloped off down the high- 
way. But the road was dark and lonely, 
and at last he entered the deep woods. 
“If I am ever to be a knight, I must learn 
to be brave,” thought Cedric, but he was 
quite sure he heard a deep growl close by. 
He rode steadily forward. There, coming 
toward him, was the great wild boar which 
had destroyed the farmer’s cattle. Cedric 
spurred his horse forward and hurled his 
spear at the boar. The boar rolled over 
upon the ground— dead. 

Af ter a time he came to a little village 
and he saw a group of boys who were 


98 


HOW CEDRIC BECAME A KNIGHT 


tormenting a poor lame man in their 
midst. 

“How dare you!” cried Cedric, riding 
up to them, and he said, gently, to the 
old man, who was trembling with fright: 
“Come with me. You may ride my horse.” 

So Cedric walked imtil they reached 
the next village, where he left the old man 
at his own door. Then he hurried on, 
not even stopping for food. Late in the 
evening he reached the house where he 
was to rest for the night. By dawn the 
next day he was up and off on his journey 
once more. 

As he rode along he came to a rippling 
brook. He saw a poor little fish lying 
on the bank, gasping for breath, where 
some fishermen had carelessly left it to 
die. 

“Poor little thing!” thought Cedric. 
He stepped down from his horse and gently 
laid the fish back in the brook once more 
and watched it swim gaily away. “A 
knight should help any suffering thing, no 
matter how small,” he said as he rode on. 


HOW CEDRIC BECAME A KNIGHT 


99 


At last the knight’s beautiful palace 
was in sight, and Cedric rode into the 
courtyard. He was very weary, but he 
carried Sir RoUin’s letter safe. When the 
king read the letter he sent for Cedric. 
Sir Rolhn had written to say that Cedric 
was brave, and true, and courteous, and 
ready to be a soldier. So the king told 
him that he was to serve in the army and 
live at the palace. 

Then, after more years, came a won- 
derful day when the king called Cedric to 
his great throne-room. There sat the king 
upon a beautiful throne of gold, beside him 
the queen. There was a canopy of velvet 
over their heads, and all the ladies-in- 
waiting and the courtiers stood about. 
Cedric knelt upon one knee before the 
king’s throne, as was the custom in those 
days. The king raised his beautiful golden 
sceptre and struck Cedric lightly upon the 
shoulder with it, saying at the same time : 
“Arise, Sir Cedric!’’ Then Cedric knew 
that he was at last a knight. 

After a while he had a beautiful castle 


100 


HOW CEDRIC BECAME A KNIGHT 


of his own, and his own prancing horses. 
He was always so brave, and noble, and 
kind that all his people loved him, and 
called him “Sir Cedric, the Good.” 

Adapted from “In Storyland," by Elizabeth Harriaon. Reprinted 
by permission of Miss Harrison. 


A LITTLE T.AD OP LONG AGO 


Little Abe hurried home as fast as his 
feet would carry him. Perhaps if he had 
worn soft wool stockings and finely fitting 
shoes, like yours, he could have run faster. 
But, instead of stockings, he wore deerskin 
leggings. Pulled over these were clumsy 
moccasins of bearskin that his mother had 
made for him. 

Such a funny little boy as he was, 
trudging along across the rough fields! 
His suit was of warm, gray homespun. His 
odd-shaped cap had once been on the back 
of a coon. The coon’s tail flew out behind 
as he walked, like a funny, furry tassel. But 
if you could have looked into the honest, 
twinkling, blue eyes of this little lad of long 
ago you would have liked him at once. 

In one hand little Abe held something 
very precious. It was not a purse of gold, 
nor a bag of gold. It was only a book, but 
little Abe thought more of that book than 
he would have thought of gold or precious 
101 


103 


A LITTLE LAD OF LONG A«0 


stones. To know just what that book 
meant to little Abe, you must be very fond 
of reading. You must think how it would 
seem to live far away from all the schools, 
to have no books of your own, and to see 
no books anywhere, except two or three 
old ones of your mother’s that you had 
read over and over imtil you knew them 
by heart. 

So, when a neighbor had said that little 
Abe might take a book home and keep it 
until he had read it all through, do you 
wonder that his eyes shone like stars ? A 
real book — a book that told about little 
boys and girls and the big world! Little 
Abe’s heart beat fast. It seemed almost 
too good to be true. 

Little Abe’s home was built on a hill- 
side. It was not much like your home. It 
was not built of stone or brick, not even 
of nice, smooth lumber, but of rough logs. 
When little Abe lay in his small bed, close 
to the roof, he could look through the 
chinks between the logs and see the great, 
white stars shining down on him. Borne- 


A LITTLE LAD OF LONG AGO 


103 


times the great yellow moon smiled at him 
as she sailed through the dark night sky. 
And sometimes, too, saucy rain drops 
pattered down on the little face on the 
coarse pillow. 

Tonight, after little Abe had crept up 
the steps to the loft, he put his precious 
book in a small crack between the logs. 
When the first gray light came, in the 
morning, he awoke and read until his 
father called him to get up. Night aiter 
night he read, until the book was nearly 
finished. Little Abe worked hard all day 
long. Never a minute had he in the day- 
time to peep between the covers of his 
beloved book. 

One night he slipped the book away 
as usual and fell asleep to dream of the 
wonderful story. He awoke very early, 
but there were no golden sunbeams to 
peep through the chinks and play across 
his pillow. The loft was dark and little 
Abe could hear the wind whistling out in 
the trees. He reached out his hand for the 
book— and what do you think? He put 


104 


A LITTLE LAD OF LONG AGO 


his hand into a pile of something white 
and cold Ijdng on his bed ! His bed was 
covered with an outside blanket of soft, 
white snow! 

He shivered and sat up, reaching again 
for the book. He pulled it out. Then 
the poor little fellow almost cried. That 
precious book was wet from cover to 
cover. Its crisp leaves were crumpled and 
soaked from the heavy fall of snow. Poor 
little Abe! He sat up in his cold bed and 
brushed off the snow as best he could. 
He could scarcely keep the tears back. 
There was a big lump in his throat, and a 
big lump in his heart. What would the 
kind neighbor say? 

As soon as he could, little Abe set off 
across the snowy fields to the neighbor’s 
house. It was more than a mile away, but 
he trudged along. He did not think of the 
wind or the cold, but only of the book. 
When he found the neighbor he held out 
the poor, spoiled book. Looking straight 
up into the man’s face, with clear, honest 
eyes, he told his sad story. 


A LITTLE LAD OF LONG AGO 


105 


“Well, my boy,” said the man, smiling 
down into the sober little face, “so my 
book is spoiled. Will you work for me to 
pay for it ? ” 

“I will do anything for you,” said the 
little fellow, eagerly. 

“Well, then, I will ask you to pull 
fodder com for me for three days,” said 
the man. 

Little Abe looked up into his kind face. 

“Then, sir,” he said wistfully, “will the 
book be all mine ? ” 

“Why, yes, of course,” said the man, 
“ you may have the book ; you will earn it.” 

So little Abe went to work for three 
days. He was cold. His back ached as he 
pulled com for the cattle, but he was too 
happy to mind. Was not that precious 
book to be soon his very own? 

What do you suppose that book was, 
for which little Abe worked so long and 
faithfully? Was it a book of wonderful 
fairy tales, like yours ? No ; the book was 
the story of George Washington. Years 
afterward, when little Abe had grown to 


106 A LITTLE LAD OF LONG AGO 

be a great man and the President of the 
United States, he used to tell the story of 
his first book. 

“ That book — the story of George 
Washington — helped me to become the 
President,” said Abraham Lincoln. 


Copyright by Good Housekeeping. 


BIG BROTHER’S VALENTINE 


Aunt Anne laughed. “Sarah Jane 
Simpson,” she said, “what is the matter? 
Who ever saw such a puckered up httle 
face! Can’t you get your lesson?” 

Sarah Jane laughed, too, and laid down 
her geography. “I wasn’t really stud3^g 
Aunt Anne. I was trying to think what 
I could send Big Brother for a birthday 
present. You know his birthday comes on 
St. Valentine’s Day.” 

Sarah Jane always called her brother 
Bob, Big Brother. 

Aunt Anne laughed again. “On St. 
Valentine’s Day!” she said. “Well, you are 
beg innin g in season. This is only October.” 

Sarah Jane thought that perhaps she 
was a bit too early. But, oh, she had been 
so lonesome ever since Bob had started 
away yesterday morning. His school would 
not close until June. She wanted to do 
something very nice for his birthday. 
Christmas came between, to be sure, but 
lor 


108 


BIG BROTHER’S VALENTINE 


it was a birthday present on which Sarah 
Jane had set her heart. 

“ Make him a valentine,” said Aunt 
Anne. “You can cut out flowers, and 
birds, and Cupids, and pretty little faces 
from picture-cards. I will give you some 
nice cardboard. You can paste them on, 
and then write a little verse on it, and 
make a border of hearts all around. I will 
draw you a plan this minute.” 

Aunt Anne took her pencil and began 
to draw, and Sarah Jane opened her 
geography again. All at once she laughed. 
“You need not draw me a valentine. Aunt 
Anne,” she said. “ I know what I will do.” 
And off she ran upstairs. 

Next morning after breakfast Sarah 
Jane ran outdoors— hoppety, skipperty, 
hop — as fast as she could go. Down the 
garden-walk she skipped. She went by 
Bob’s long marigold bed, and through the 
little garden-gate into the barnyard. Bob’s 
dog, Don, came running up to her and 
jumped all about her. He was so happy 
to see his master’s little sister. 


BIG BROTHER’S VALENTINE 


109 


“Oh, Don!” Sarah Jane cried, “I am 
going to make Big Brother a valentine for 
his birthday, and don’t you want to help?” 

Don wagged his tail for joy. Just then 
Big Brother’s little brown hen came out of 
the hen-house and Sarah Jane went to meet 
her. 

“ Oh, you dear Henny Penny, I am 
going to make a valentine for your master, 
and won’t you give me two tiny brown 
feathers ?” 

The little brown hen shook her wings. 
There on the ground lay two tiny brown 
feathers. Sarah Jane picked them up and 
put them in her apron. Then she said: 
“Now, where is Ducky Daddies?” 

Ducky Daddies was just going down to 
the pond. 

“ Oh, Ducky Daddies,” called Sarah 
Jane, “I am going to make a valentine for 
your master. Won’t you give me two of 
your shining green feathers ? ” 

“Quack, quack!” said Ducky Daddies, 
and there on the ground lay two shining 
green feathers. Sarah Jane picked them 


no 


BIQ BROTHER’S VALENTINE 


up and put them in her apron, and then 
she said to Don: “1 will get some of the 
ferns that grow by the little bridge we 
made, and some of the marigolds from his 
garden-bed, and I will make a most beau- 
tiful wreath!” 

So Sarah Jane went, skipperty-hop, 
to the pond and picked the little green 
ferns and put them in her apron. Then, 
skipperty-hop, she went to the garden and 
picked the yellow marigolds and put them 
in her apron. All the time Don ran about 
and barked, and thought he was helping a 
great deal. 

“Now for Billy Button,” said Sarah 
Jane, and back she went, skipperty-hop, to 
the barnyard. 

The pony was in his stall eating hay, 
and Sarah Jane said: “Oh, Billy Button, I 
am going to make your master a birthday 
valentine. Won’t you give me a hair of 
your beautiful, long tail?” 

Billy Button switched his beautiful 
black tail about, and there on the floor 
lay a glossy black hair. Sarah Jane picked 


BIQ BROTHER’S VALENTINE 


in 


it up and wound it round and round her 
finger, so as not to lose it. Then she went 
to see Bob’s gray squirrel in his cage by the 
door. 

“Oh, Ohipperty,” she said, “I am going 
to make your master a valentine of the 
things he hkes best. Will you give me a 
little bit of your soft, gray fur?” 

Ohipperty was whirling on his wheel, 
but he winked, as much as to say: “Help 
yourself ! ” Sure enough, there was a little 
tuft of soft, gray fur sticking between the 
bars. Sarah Jane poked two of her fingers 
inside and got it. She put it in her apron, 
and then she said: “I wonder what I can 
get from Bunny. I am sure Big Brother 
would like something to make him think 
of his white rabbit.” 

So Sarah Jane went, skipperty-hop, to 
the rabbit’s house and she said: “Oh, 
Bunny, I am making a valentine for your 
master. What will you give me for it?” 

Bvmny was eating his dinner of turnips 
and parsley. He lifted his long ears, and 
moved them thoughtfully for a moment. 


112 


BIG BROTHER’S VALENTINE 


Then he tossed her a stem of parsley. 
Sarah Jane picked it up and put it in her 
apron. Then she turned, and, with the 
little scissors from her apron pocket, she 
snipped off a red curl from Don’s back and 
put that in her apron, too. 

With the little red curl in her apron, 
and Chipperty’s fur, and Bunny’s parsley, 
and Henny Penny’s brown feathers, and 
Duck Daddle’s green ones, and the little 
ferns from the bridge, and the marigolds 
from the garden, and Billy Button’s long, 
glossy hair around her finger, Sarah Jane 
went, skipperty-hop, into the house. She 
was ready to make the birthday valentine 
for Big Brother. 

Aunt Anne gave her a piece of card- 
board and a pot of paste, and Sarah Jane 
made a most beautiful wreath. It took her 
a long time to paste the tiny, green sprigs 
of parsley in among the yellow petals of 
marigolds. It took her a long time to lay 
the ferns and the green and brown feathers 
just right to make the two sides and curve 
aroimd at the base. It took a very long 


BIG BROTHER’S VALENTINE 113 

time, indeed, to sew the little red curl and 
the glossy black hair and the lock of 
squirrel fur to cover the bottom. But the 
whole was a perfect wreath to send to Big 
Brother. 

And then she wrote in the center — 

“When this you see. 

Remember us ! ” 

It did not sound just as it should, but 
it said what Sarah Jane wanted to say to 
Big Brother. 

Sarah Jane put the valentine in the 
dictionary to press it nice and flat. When 
the twelfth of February came she took it 
out. She put it in a beautiful, large 
envelope. She directed it and stamped it, 
and it started on its two-days’ journey. 

And when Big Brother opened it he 
looked at the wreath a long time. He 
read the verse inside the wreath, and then 
he said : “That’s from little Sarah Jane, and 
from Don, and Billy Button, and Chipperty, 
and Bunny, and Henny Penny, and Ducky 


114 


BIG BROTHER'S VALENTINE 


Daddies, and our bridge, and my garden- 
bed— oh, funny little Sarah Jane!” 

And he laughed, and dropped a big, 
happy tear right-splash I — on his new 
valentine. 

Copyright by Lilia Thomas Elder. 


THE SNOWDROP 


The snow lay deep, for it was winter 
time. The winter winds blew cold, but 
there was one house where all was snug 
and warm. And in the house lay a little 
flower. In its bulb it lay, under the earth 
and the snow. 

One day the rain fell and it trickled 
through the ice and snow down into the 
ground. Presently a sunbeam, pointed and 
slender, pierced down through the ground 
and tapped on the btilb. 

"Come in,” said the flower. 

“I can’t do that,” said the sunbeam; 
“I am not strong enough to lift the latch. 
I shall be stronger when the spring-time 
eomes.” 

“When will it be spring?” asked the 
flower of every little sunbeam that rapped 
on its door. But for a long time it was 
winter. The ground was still covered with 
snow, and every night there was ice in 
the water. The flower grew quite tired of 
waitiog. 


115 


116 


THE SNOWDROP 


“How long it is ! ” it said. “ I feel quite 
cramped. I must stretch myself and rise 
up a little. I must lift the latch, and look 
out, and say ‘good morning’ to the spring.” 

So the flower pushed and pushed. The 
walls were softened by the rain and warmed 
by the little sunbeams. The flower shot up 
from under the snow. A pale green bud 
was on its stalk, and some long, narrow 
leaves on either side. It was biting cold. 

“You are a little too early,” said the 
Wind and the weather. But every sunbeam 
sang “Welcome,” and the flower raised its 
head from the snow. It unfolded, pure and 
white, and decked with green stripes. It 
was weather to freeze it to pieces — such a 
delicate little flower — but it was stronger 
than any one knew. It stood in its white 
dress in the white snow. And every day 
it grew sweeter. 

“ Oh,” shouted the children, as they ran 
into the garden, “see the snowdrop ! There 
it stands so pretty, so beautiful — the first, 
the only one ! ” 


MR. EASTER RABBIT 


A long time ago, in a far away land, 
there was a famine. In the early spring, 
when the first grass peeped out, the sun 
shone so hotly that every blade was dried 
up. No rain fell through the long summer 
months, so that the seed and grain that 
were planted could not grow. Everywhere 
the fields and meadows, usually do green 
and rich, were bare. Here and there a 
green tree waved its dusty branches in the 
hot wind. When fall came, instead of the 
well-filled granaries and barns, there was 
great emptiness. Instead of happy fathers 
and mothers, there were grave, troubled 
ones. 

But the children were just as happy as 
ever. They were glad, even, that it had not 
rained. They could play out of doors all 
day long; and the sand-piles had never 
been so large and fine. 

The people had to be very saving of 
the things that had been left from the year 

117 


US 


MR. EASTER RABBIT 


before. All the following winter, by being 
very careful, they managed to provide 
simple food for their famihes. When Christ- 
mas came there were not many presents, 
but the children did not miss them as we 
would. In that land they did not give 
many presents at Christmas-time. 

Their holiday was Easter Sunday. On 
that day they had a great celebration, and 
there were always goodies and presents for 
the little boys and girls. As the time came 
nearer, the parents wondered what they 
should do for the children’s holiday. Every 
new day it was harder than the day before 
to get just plain, coarse bread to eat. 
Where would they find all the sweetmeats 
and pretty things that the children had 
always had at Easter-time ? 

One evening some of the mothers met, 
after the children were in bed, to talk about 
what they should do. One mother said: 
“We can have eggs. All the chickens are 
laying; but the children are so tired of 
eggs, for they have them every day.” 

So they decided that eggs would never 


MR. EASTER RABBIT 


119 


do for an Easter treat. They went home 
sorrowfully, thinking that Easter must 
come and go like any other day. And one 
mother was more sorry than any of the 
others. Her dear little boy and girl had 
been planning and talking about the beau- 
tiful time they were to have on the great 
holiday. 

After this mother had gone to bed, she 
wondered and thought if there were any 
way by which she could give her little ones 
their happy time. All at once she cried 
right out in the dark: “I know! I have 
thought of something to make the children 
happy I ” 

She could hardly wait until morning. 
The first thing she did was to run into the 
next house and tell her neighbor of the 
bright plan she had thought of. And 
the neighbor told some one else. So the 
secret flew until, before night, all the 
mothers had heard it, but not a single 
child. 

There was still a week before Easter, 
and there was a good deal of whispering. 


120 


MR. EASTER RABBIT 


The fathers and mothers smiled every time 
they thought of the secret. When Easter 
Sunday came, every one went, first of all, 
to the great stone church. When church 
was over, instead of going home, the older 
people suggested walking to the great 
woods just back of the church. 

“Perhaps we may find some flowers,” 
they said. 

On they went, and soon the merry 
children were scattered through the woods, 
among the trees. 

Then a shout went up, now here, now 
there, from all sides. 

“Father, mother, look here!” 

“See what I have found— some beau- 
tiful eggs!” 

“ Here is a red one ! ” 

“1 have found a yellow one!” 

“ Here is a whole nestful ; all of different 
colors ! ” 

The children came running, bringing 
beautiful colored eggs which they had 
found in the soft moss under the trees. 
What kind of eggs could they be? They 


MR. EASTER RABBIT 


131 


were too large for bird’s eggs. They were 
the size of hens’ eggs; but who ever saw 
a hen’s egg so wonderfully colored ? 

Just then, from behind a large tree 
where the children had found a nest full 
of eggs, there jumped a rabbit. With long 
leaps he bounded into the deep woods, 
where he was hidden from view by the 
trees and the bushes. 

“It must be that the rabbit laid the 
pretty eggs,” said one little girl. 

“I am sure it was the rabbit,” said her 
mother. 

“Hurrah for the rabbit! Hurrah for 
the Easter rabbit!” the children cried; and 
the fathers and mothers were glad with the 
children. 

So this is the story of the first Easter 
eggs, for, ever since then, in that far-away 
land, and in other countries, too, the Easter 
Babbit has brought the little children at 
Easter-time many colored eggs. 


THE STORY OP THE LITTLE MOUSE 


The little mouse lived with his father 
and mother and brother. They lived in a 
small, roTmd nest in a field. He was very 
happy. He played in the field all day. At 
night he went to sleep in his nest in the 
grass. 

Mr. and Mrs. Field Mouse knew how 
to bring up their children. They taught 
them never to go into the streets. There 
were cats and dogs and horses and carta 
going by. 

One day a sleek, fat, gray mouse came 
to visit them. He was the cousin of the 
little mouse. He lived in a house on a 
street. The little Field Mice were awed by 
his fine ways. 

“You could never be content here if 
you could once see my house,” he said to 
them. “We have feasts! There is always 
cheese in the pantry. There is really too 
much to eat.” 

The httle Field Mice opened their eyes. 

122 



“You may not wear such a fine coat, but it is better 
to be safe.” 








THE STORY OF THE LITTLE MOUSE . 123 

Very often in their home there was not 
enough to eat. They knew what it was to 
go hungry to bed. 

After the cousin had gone, the little 
mouse said to his father and mother: “Why 
can’t we live in a house? Why can’t we 
have more than we want to eat? Why 
can’t we be fat, and have a fine gray coat 
like our cousin’s?’’ 

But the wise old mice said: “Your 
cousin is proud. He makes the most of his 
good things. He did not tell you about 
the cat that fives in the house. The cat 
has eaten up three of his family. He did 
not tell you of the mouse trap. His brother 
was caught in the mouse trap. You may 
not have such good things to eat. You 
may not wear such a fine coat, but it is 
better to be safe. A small home is better 
than a large one.” 

The little mouse did not think so. They 
did not know, he thought. He wanted to 
find out for himself. So, that night, after 
his father and mother had gone to sleep, 
he went out. He went softly across the 


124 THE STORY OF THE LITTLE MOUSE 

dark field. He went into the street to his 
cousin’s house. He gnawed his way into 
the cellar there. 

Never had he seen such a place before. 
It was big and dark. He heard something 
move near him. He jumped in fright. But 
he saw that it was only his fat, sleek cousin. 
The httle mouse told him that he had run 
away. He said he wanted to see the cheese 
his cousin had told him about. 

“Well,” said the big, gray mouse, “come 
with me. I will show you around, but look 
out for the cat ! ” 

They started through the big house. 
The little mouse opened his eyes in wonder. 
He said many times that he wished he 
might hve there. 

“You are safer where you are,” said his 
cousin. The little mouse wondered what 
he meant. At last they reached the dining- 
room. There had been a fine supper that 
night. The cook had let it stand until 
morning. Here was a feast, indeed ! There 
were a pie and a cake and crackers and 
cheese. Five other mice were there eating. 


THE STORY OF THE LITTLE MOUSE 125 

All were as sleek and fat as the cousin. 
The little mouse began to eat, too. But 
there was a scuffle, a squeal, and a scamp- 
ering. A big, gray cat bounded into the 
room and caught the mouse that was 
nearest the door. 

The other mice scampered away from 
the room. They ran to their holes. The 
big, gray cousin took the little mouse with 
him. There they stayed for a long time. 
At last they went out again into the 
kitchen. While the cousin nosed around, 
the little mouse spied a big bit of cheese 
in a shiny box. He made a dive for it. 

Snap ! Click ! The little mouse was 
caught in a trap. 

“Help! Help!” he cried. 

His cousin ran to him. 

“Oh, you silly mouse!” he cried; “you 
will never get out. They will come in the 
morning and give you to the cat. Oh, dear ! 
Oh, dear ! ” 

The little mouse was wild with fright. 
He struggled and he wriggled. Something 
sharp cut his foot. He wanted to get out 


126 THE STORY OF THE LITTLE MOUSE 

and go back to his own home ! He twisted 
in and out. Harder and harder he wriggled. 
Then he worked himself out and was free 
again. 

“That is because you are such a little 
fellow,” said his cousin. “I never could 
have got out.” 

The little mouse ran as fast as his hurt 
leg would carry hii-n out of the house. He 
went across the fields to his old home. His 
mother had missed him. How glad she was 
to see him ! She cared for his hurt foot. 
Then she put him in his little grass bed, 
where he went to sleep. He was safe and 
he never left his home again. 

Copyright by th« Kindargartea Reviaw. 


THE RICH GOOSE 


Once there was a rich goose going 
along with a bag of corn, more than he 
could eat in all his lifetime. As he walked 
along, so proud and happy, he met a crow. 

The crow said: “Hello, Mr. Goose! 
You have a nice lot of com there. It is 
too much for you to carry. Let me help 
you. I will take some of your load.” 

“Oh, no,” said the goose; “riches are 
a grreat burden, to be sure. Still I am not 
going to give you any of my bag of com.” 

“ Oh, well,” said the crow, “ I just made 
a friendly offer. I suppose you wouldn’t 
mind having more com. I can tell you a 
way to make your com pile grow bigger 
and bigger every minute.” 

“Tell me quickly!” said Mr. Goose, 
setting down his com bag m the road. 

“First,” said the crow, “you must 
spread all your com out on the ground, 
so we can count it.” 

The goose spread all his com out. Then 

127 


128 


THE RICH GOOSE 


the crow said: "Now, you count on that 
side, while I count on this.” 

So the goose began counting: “One, 
two, three, four, five, six — ” And the crow 
began counting: “One, two, three, four, five, 
six — ” As fast as he counted he gobbled 
up the corn. 

At last the goose looked up and said: 
“Where is my com, Mr. Crow?” 

Mr. Crow flew off, laughing a loud, 
“ Oaw-caw-caw,” as he went. So Mr. G-oose 
picked up his com and shouldered the bag, 
which was not so heavy now. 

Well, Mr. Goose went on, and he met 
a top-knot pigeon. The top-knot pigeon 
said: “Mr. Goose, you’ve got a big lot of 
com. Let me help you carry it.” 

“No,” said Mr. Goose, “I don’t want 
any help.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Pigeon, “I know a 
little game you can play, and make your 
com into more. 1 will show you how to 
play it.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Goose, “I ought to 
have a little fun as I go along.” 


THE RICH GOOSE 


129 


“ Spread your com in a circle,” said the 
pigeon. “Begin on the outside to count. 
I will go behind you and count after 
you.” 

“Why don’t you let me count last?” 
asked Mr* Goose. 

“Because that is not the game,” said 
Mr. Pigeon. 

So Mr. Goose spread out some of his 
corn in a circle, and began counting : 
“One, two, three, four, five, sis—” And the 
pigeon followed behind, counting: “One, 
two, three, four, five, sis — ” and swallowing 
as fast as he counted. When Mr. Goose 
got round to the starting point there wasn’t 
any corn left. 

“ Where’s my com ? ” said Mr. Goose. 

“That’s the game— to find out where it 
went,” said the pigeon, flying off. And Mr. 
Goose tied up his bag again, and thought 
how light it was. 

He went on and on, and he met a crane. 
And the crane said: “Hello, Mr. Goose! 
What a fine lot of com I Let me help you 
carry it.” 


130 


THE RICH GOOSE 


“No, thank you,” said the goose, “I 
don’t need any help.” 

“ If you will swim around that big rock 
in the pond,” said Mr. Crane, “ you will see 
pearls and diamonds and gold fishes.” 

“ Oh, oh ! ” said Mr. Goose. 

So Mr. Goose swam out into the pond 
to see the sights, and left Mr. Crane 
watching his bag of com. But he saw no 
sights, and when he came back his bag 
was very light indeed. 

“Where is my corn?” said Mr. Goose, 
and Mr. Crane just gave a loud screech 
and flew off to Canada. 

So Mr. Goose went on and on, and he 
met Mrs. Brown Leghorn. Her ten little 
chicks were trying to keep up with her. 
She said : “ Don’t you find your corn very 
heavy, Mr. Goose ? ” 

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Goose. “No one 
knows the load we rich folks have to carry.” 

“Well, Mr. Goose,” said Mrs. Brown 
Leghorn, “shall I help you?” 

“No, no,” said Mr. Goose; “I am used 
to it.” 


THE RICH GOOSE 


131 


“Very well,” said Mrs. Brown Leghorn; 
“but do as I tell you. Throw some com 
out here on the ground and see what will 
happen.” 

“Your chickens would eat it,” said Mr. 
Goose. 

“You must remember,” said Mrs. Brown 
Leghorn, “ that they are not common chick- 
ens. They are Brown Leghorns.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Goose, “I will throw a 
little of my corn on the ground. If those 
chickens don’t eat it I will give you all the 
com you wish for yourself.” 

So the goose threw down the com. 
The chickens started for it, but Mrs. Brown 
Leghorn gave her hawk cry, and they all 
ran to the bushes to hide. But Mrs. Brown 
Leghorn ate up the com. 

“ Where is my corn ? Shame on you ! ” 
cried Mr. Goose. He gathered up what was 
left, and went on imtil he met a bobtail 
horse. 

“Let me help you carry that load, Mr. 
Goose. It is too heavy for you,” said Mr. 
Bob Tail. 


132 


THE RICH GOOSE 


“No, no!” said Mr. Goose. He was 
just hurrying on, but the horse said : “You 
ought to open that corn and let the air 
freshen it. I know the weevils are eating 
it up.” 

“The weevils! Are they?” asked Mr. 
Goose. 

So the horse took the Goose to a nice 
big box and poured out the com. The 
goose said: “I can’t find any weevils.” 

“Let me look,” said the horse. All the 
time he was looking he was munching, 
munching the corn. 

So the goose drove Mr. Bob Tail away. 
He put the little bit of com that was left in 
the great big bag. He went on down the 
road, until he met a farmer’s little boy. 

And the boy said: “Mr. Goose, what is 
that little bit of stuff you have got in that 
great big bag?” 

“It is all the com I own in the world,” 
said the goose, “and I am afraid to eat it 
up, for then I shall have nothing.” 

“Put it in the ground,” said the boy, 
“and it will make more corn.” 


THE RICH GOOSE 


133 


“Would that not be throwing it away?” 
said the goose, sadly. 

“No,” said the boy; “we farmers are 
always burying things in the ground, and 
they spring up and grow.” 

So the boy took a horse and ploughed 
and ploughed the land. Then he harrowed 
it, and laid it out in furrows, and planted 
the corn. When Mr. Goose saw the last 
of his yellow com all covered up in the 
ground, he thought that he should never 
be happy again. But the boy said : “ Cheer 
up, Mr. Goose ! Here comes your corn.” 

And the com grew and grew, until, at 
last, harvest time came. And for every 
grain the boy put into the ground there 
were hundreds of grains in the ears. Mr. 
Goose gave half his corn to the farmer’s 
boy. And what he had at first was nothing 
compared to his riches now. 


Copyright by The Outlook Co. 


MOTHER SPIDER 


It was a beautiful day in midsummer. 
The meadow was alive with busy little 
people astir in the bright sunlight. A long 
line of ants came crawling down the path, 
carrying provisions to their home under the 
elm tree. An old toad came hopping down 
through the grass, blinking in the warm 
sun. Just a little higher up the bees were 
droning drowsily as they flew from flower 
to flower. Above them all, seeming almost 
in the blue sky, a robin was calling to his 
mate. 

Soon Mrs. Spider came down the path. 
She seemed to be in a great hurry. She 
looked neither to the right nor to the left. 
She kept straight ahead, holding tightly to 
a little, white bag which she carried in her 
mouth. She was just rushing past Mr. Toad 
when a big, black beetle came bumping 
by. He stumbled against Mrs. Spider and 
knocked the bag out of her mouth. 

In an instant Mrs. Spider pounced down 

134 


MOTHER SPIDER 


135 


upon him. Although he was much bigger 
than she, he tumbled over on his back. 
While he was trying to kick himself right 
side up once more, Mrs. Spider made a 
quick little dash. She took up her bag, 
and scuttled off through the grass. 

“Well, well!” said Grasshopper Green, 
who was playing see-saw on a blade of 
grass. 

“Oh, dear,” grumbled Mr. Beetle, as he 
wriggled back to his feet. “I didn’t want 
her bag'. She needn’t have made such a 
fuss.” 

“She must have had something very 
fine in that bag,” said Grasshopper Green. 
“She was frightened when she dropped 
it. I wonder what it was.” He balanced 
himself on his grass blade until a stray 
breeze blew him off. Then he forgot about 
Mrs. Spider altogether. 

Two weeks after this. Grasshopper 
Green started out for a walk before break- 
fast. Just as he reached the edge of the 
brook, he saw Mrs. Spider coming toward 
him. She was moving quite slowly. She 


136 


MOTHER SPIDER 


no longer carried the little, white bag. As 
she came nearer, he could see that she had 
something on her back. 

“ Good morning, neighbor,” called Grass- 
hopper Green ; “ can I help you carry your 
things ? ” 

“Thank you,” she said, “but they 
wouldn’t stay with you, even if they could 
when you give such great jumps.” 

“They!” said Grasshopper Green. Then, 
as he came nearer, he saw that the things 
on Mrs. Spider’s back were wee baby 
spiders. 

“Are they not pretty children?” she 
asked, proudly. “ I was so afraid that 
something would happen to my eggs. I 
never let go of the bag once, except when 
that stupid Mr. Beetle knocked it out of 
my mouth.” 

“O-ho,” said Grasshopper Green, “so 
that was what frightened you so! Your 
bag was full of eggs ! Now, you are going 
to carry all those children on your back? 
Does it not tire you dreadfully?” 

“I don’t mind that a bit,” said Mrs. 


MOTHER SPIDER IIT 

Spider, “if only the children are well and 
safe. In a little while they will be able to 
run about by themselves. Then we shall 
be very happy here in the meadow grass. 
Oh, they are well worth the trouble, neigh- 
bor Grasshopper.” 

“Yes,” said Grasshopper Green, “I have 
a dozen wee boys of my own at home. 
That reminds me that it is time to go home 
to breakfast ! Good-bye, neighbor. I hope 
the children will soon be running about 
with you. You certainly are taking good 
care of them. Good-bye.” 

Then he went home. And proud, happy 
Mother Spider kept on her way to hunt for 
a breakfast for the babies she loved so well. 


Copyright by the Kindergarten Review. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


It was lovely summer weather in the 
co^mtry. The golden com, the green oats, 
and the haystacks in the meadows looked 
beautiful. On a sunny slope stood a pleas- 
ant old farmhouse. Close by, under some 
burdock leaves on a river bank, sat a 
mother duck on her nest, waiting for her 
eggs to hatch. 

At length, one shell cracked and then 
another, and from each egg came a little 
duck. They all quacked as well as they 
could, and looked about at the large, green 
leaves. 

“ How big the world is ! ” said the young 
ducks. 

“Do you imagine this is the whole 
world?” asked the mother. “Wait until 
you see the garden! Are you all out?” 
she asked, rising. “No; I see that the 
biggest egg is here still,” and she seated 
herself again upon her nest. 

“How are you getting on?” asked an 

138 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


139 


old duck, who paid her a visit. “ Let me 
see the egg that will not hatch. I have 
no doubt it is a turkey’s egg. I hatched 
some, once, and the young ones would not 
go into the water. Take my advice and 
leave the egg where it is.” 

“I think I will sit upon it a little 
longer,” said the mother duck. 

“Please yourself,” said the old duck. 

At last the large egg was hatched, and 
a young one crept out, crying: “Peep, 
peep ! ” It was very large and ugly — quite 
different from the rest. The duck stared at 
it. “I wonder if it is a turkey,” she said. 
“It shall go in the water, if I have to push 
it in.” 

The next day the sun shone brightly on 
the burdock leaves, and the mother duck 
took her brood to the water and jumped 
in. The little ducks swam about her quite 
prettily, and the ugly duckling swam by 
himself. 

“He is not a turkey,” said the mother 
duck. “How well he uses his legs ! Quack, 
quack! Come to the barnyard with me.” 


140 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


The little ducks did as they were bid, 
and they soon got to feel at home in the 
barnyard. But the poor ugly duckling 
grew, each day, more awkward. He was 
bit and pushed and made fun of by the big 
ducks and all the poultry. “ He is too big,” 
they said. The turkey cock, who fancied 
himself an emperor, because of his spurs, 
flew at him, red in the head with rage. 
Even his brothers and sisters drove him 
about. The chickens beat him, and the 
girl who fed the poultry kicked him. His 
mother told him she wished he had never 
been hatched. So, one day, he ran away, 
frightening the little birds in the hedge as 
he flew over. 

“They are afraid of me because I am 
so ugly,” he said, as he flew farther and 
came out on a large moor where the wild 
ducks lived. 

“ What sort of a duck are you ? ” asked 
the wild ducks, coming round him. 

The ugly duckhng bowed as politely as 
he could, but he felt very sad, and he did 
not reply. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


141 


“You are very ugly,” said the wild 
ducks; “but that will not matter if you do 
not marry into our family.” 

After a day or so, some men came to 
the moor to shoot the birds there. Oh, how 
terrified the poor duckling was! He hid 
himself and lay quite still. Then, looking 
very carefully about him, he ran over fields 
and meadows away from the moor, A 
storm arose, but, toward night, he reached 
a poor little cottage. He was too tired to 
go any farther. He slipped through a hole 
under the door, and found a shelter for the 
night. 

A woman, a tom-cat, and a hen lived in 
the cottage. The tom-cat could raise his 
back, and purr, and throw out sparks when 
he was stroked the wrong way. The hen, 
who was called Chickie Shortlegs, could 
lay very good eggs. 

In the morning the ducklmg was seen, 
and the tom-cat began to purr, and the 
hen to cluck. 

“What a prize!” said the old woman. 
“ Now we shall have some duck-eggs.” So 


142 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


they allowed him to remain for three days 
on trial. But there were no eggs. 

“Can you not lay eggs?” asked the 
hen. “ Because if you can’t, have the good- 
ness to hold your tongue.” 

“Can you raise your back, and purr, 
and throw out sparks?” asked the tom- 
cat. “ No ? Then don’t talk when sensible 
people are speaking.” 

So the duckling sat in the corner, 
feeling very low-spirited, till the sunshine 
and the fresh air came into the room 
through the open door. Then he began to 
have such a great longing to swim that 
he had to tell the hen. “I believe I must 
go out into the world again,” said the 
duckling. 

“Do go!” said the hen. So the duck- 
ling left the cottage, and found a place 
where he could swim and dive. But no 
other creature came near him, because he 
was so ugly. 

Autumn came, and the leaves turned 
red and gold. Winter came, and the clouds 
himg low in the sky, full of snowflakes. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 143 

The raven stood in the ferns, crying : 
“Oroak, croak.” All this was very sad 
for the httle duckling. One evening, just 
as the sun set, a flock of beautiful birds 
flew out of the bushes. They were swans. 
They gave a strange cry as they spread 
their glorious wings, and flew toward the 
warm countries across the sea. 

The little ugly duckling gave a strange 
cry, too, as he saw them. Could he ever 
be as lovely as they? When they were 
out of sight, he dived under the water in 
excitement. But the weather grew colder 
and colder, and at last he was not able 
to paddle with his legs. He froze fast in 
the ice. 

A peasant found him one morning and 
broke the ice. He took the duckling home 
to his wife. The warmth revived him, but 
the children wished to play with him, which 
frightened him. He started up in terror, 
fluttered into the milk pan, and splashed 
the milk all over the floor. He flew into 
the butter cask and into the meal tub, 
and out again. What a sight he was I The 


144 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


children tried to catch him. The woman 
chased him with the fire tongs. But he 
slipped out through the open door and laid 
himself down in the newly fallen snow. 

So, all winter, he was cold and hungry, 
and sad. But one morning he knew that 
it was spring. The warm sun was shining 
upon him, as he lay in the moor among 
the bushes. 

The lark was singing, and the duckling 
felt that his wings were strong. He flapped 
them against his sides and flew high into 
the air. He flew to a large garden, where 
the elder trees bent their green branches 
down to a stream which wound about the 
lawn. From a thicket came three beautiful 
swans. The duckling remembered them. 

“1 will fly to those royal birds,” he 
said. “They will kill me for being so ugly, 
but that will not matter.” 

Then he flew toward the beautiful 
swans. As soon as they saw him they 
flew to meet him with outstretched wings. 

“Kill mel” said the poor duckling; but 
what did he see reflected in the water, as 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


145 


he bent his head? His own image — not a 
dark, gray bird, ugly to see— but a graceful 
swan. The great swans swam round him, 
and stroked his neck with their beaks for 
a welcome ! 

Some little children came into the 
garden. “See!” they cried, clapping their 
hands. “A new swan has come, and he is 
more beautiful than any of the others!” 
And the old swans bowed their heads 
before him. 

Then he felt quite ashamed and hid his 
head under his wing, thinking how he had 
once been so ugly. But the elder tree 
bent its boughs into the water before him, 
and the sun shone warm and bright. So 
he rustled his feathers, and curved his 
slender neck. He thought how wonderful 
it was, that a poor little ugly duckling 
could be changed into a beautiful swan. 


THE BABY QUEEN 


She was bom, once upon a time, in a 
palace swarming with busy folks. At least 
some of them were busy. A few were 
very lazy indeed and made the others do 
all the work. 

She was such a queer little baby, lying 
very still in her white dress! Her mother 
was altogether too busy to take care of 
her and the other babies. This baby had 
a great many sisters and brothers. 

If it had not been for their many kind 
nurses, they would never have grown up 
at all. But the nurses watched over them 
very tenderly and carefully, and fed them 
on bread and milk all day long. 

They never had to wait for something 
to eat. Their nurses fed them between 
meals, and at all times. So they grew 
ever so much faster than real babies do. 
Why, some of them doubled in size in only 
half a day 1 So, you see, their bread and 
milk agreed with them wonderfully. 

146 


THE BABY QUEEN 147 

I think the nurses must have loved this 
one special baby more than all the rest. 
They soon began to give her better food 
than they gave the other babies. She had 
rich, royal jelly to eat, while the others 
had only coarse yellow bread mixed with 
a drop of honey. 

The strangest thing about this queer 
little queen was that the food she ate 
made her a queen. It was not because she 
was first heir to the throne, but because 
she had royal jelly for dinner and the 
other babies did not. Who ever heard of 
any other queen who owed her crown to 
her dinner? 

She had a tiny room all to herself. So 
did most of the babies, for that matter. 
It was a cozy little room with six walls, 
and the door was always open until the 
baby queen was about nine days old. 
Then the nurses shut the door tight and 
locked it, after they had given her a good 
big meal of royal jelly. 

For twelve long days the baby lived 
all alone in her little, locked-up room. 


148 


THE BABY QUEEN 


Nobody came to see her, or took any 
notice of her. 

At first she seemed to enjoy being 
alone. She never thought of wondering 
why her nurses did not bring her any 
dinner or supper. She was very busy 
growing and putting on a suit of beau- 
tiful new clothes. As the door was kept 
locked so tightly, nobody could look in to 
see how the new suit was made, or how 
the wee baby put it on all by herself. 

By and by, when she was dressed, the 
royal baby, although she wasn’t much of a 
baby then, concluded she did not care to 
live alone any longer. She was also very 
hungry. 

She began to turn slowly round and 
round, and cut a small round hole in her 
door with her strong little teeth. She had 
cut all her teeth by that time. When the 
circle was nearly completed— pop ! — the 
bit of a round door flew open like a lid 
to a coffee-pot! The little queen poked 
out her head and looked out with a good 
deal of wonder. 


THE BABY QUEEN 


149 


What do you suppose she thought of 
it all? There were long rows of six- walled 
rooms. There were crowds of busy work- 
ers bustling about, bringing in new supplies 
of food and piling them into the rooms. 
The lazy ones were here and there, doing 
nothing at all. 

It must have surprised the baby queen, 
but she was too wise to let any one 
know. Indeed, she was a very quiet little 
lady, and called out only something that 
sounded like “zeep, zeep, zeep,” once in a 
while. 

She popped her head down again and 
went back to her own little room to rest 
and think about it all. After that she 
peeped out of the door several times, and 
then, boldly, walked out. She was too 
hungry, just then, to wait for ceremony, 
so she walked about among the little food 
rooms helping herself. 

Nobody objected at all. They all knew 
that she was a young queen, and a queen 
may do what she wishes. From that time 
she was perfectly at home in the busy 


150 THE BABY QUEEN 

palace, and began to rule with quiet 
dignity. 

Have you not guessed who the little 
queen was ? Why, she is ahve this minute, 
and lives in our backyard! Put on your 
hats, and we will go out to the bee-hive, 
and I will introduce you to her Majesty, 
the queen bee ! 

Copyright by The Youth’s Companion. 


TOM, THE WATER BABY 


Once upon a time there was a little 
chimney sweep, and his name was Tom. 
He lived in a great town in the North 
Country, where there were plenty of chim- 
neys to sweep, and plenty of money for 
Tom to earn and his master to spend. 
Tom could not read, nor write; and he 
never washed himself. He cried half the 
time when he climbed the dark flues, and 
the soot got in his eyes, and his master 
beat him, and he had not enough to eat. 
He laughed the other half, when he was 
playing with the boys, or jumping over 
the posts at leap-frog. 

One day a smart little groom drove 
into the court where Tom lived. He said 
that Mr. Grimes, Tom’s master, was to 
come up the next morning to a big house 
where the chimneys needed sweeping. 
Then he rode away again. 

I dare say you never got up at three 
o’clock of a midsummer morning. It is the 
151 


152 TOM, THE WATER BABY 

pleasantest time of the twenty-four hours, 
and that was the time Tom and his master 
set out for the big house. IMr. Grimes rode 
the donkey in front, and Tom with the 
brushes walked behind. They went out of 
the court, and up the street, past the 
closed window shutters, past the roofs all 
shining gray in the gray dawn. 

On and on they went, and Tom looked 
and looked, for he had never been so far 
in the country before. Now they had gone 
three miles or more, and they came to the 
lodge gates before the big house. 

Grimes rang at the gate, and out came 
the keeper and opened it. Then the keeper 
went with them, around the back way, 
and into a httle back door. In a passage 
the housekeeper met them, and she gave 
Grimes orders about the chimneys. Grimes 
listened, and said, under his breath, to 
Tom: “Mind that, you httle beggar!” 

Then they came to a big room. After 
a whimper, and a kick or two from his 
master, into the grate went Tom with his 
brushes, and up the chimney. 



“Mr. Grimes rode the donkey in front, and Tom 
with the brushes, walked behind." 




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TOM, THE WATER BABY 153 

I don’t know how many chimneys he 
swept, but he got quite tired and puzzled, 
too. They were crooked chimneys, and, 
somehow, Tom lost his way in them. At 
last, what did he do but come down the 
wrong one. He found himself standing in 
a room, like none he had ever seen before. 

The room was all dressed in white. 
There were white window curtains, white 
bed curtains, white furniture, and white 
walls. The carpet was full of gay little 
flowers, and the walls were hung with 
pictures. He saw a wash-stand, with soap, 
and brushes, and towels; all for washing. 
“She must be a very dirty lady,” thought 
Tom. 

Then, looking toward the bed, he saw 
her. Under a snow-white coverlet, upon a 
snow-white pillow, lay the most beautiful 
little girl Tom had ever seen. Her cheeks 
were as white as the pillow. Her hair, 
like threads of gold, was spread all over 
the bed. Tom wondered if she could be 
one of the wax dolls he had seen in the 
shopa But, no, mhe could breathe. 


154 TOM, THE WATER BABY 

“Are all people like that when they are 
washed?” wondered Tom. 

He looked at his hands, and tried to 
rub off the soot. Then he saw, standing 
close to him, a little, ragged, ugly, black 
dwarf. It was himself, reflected in a 
mirror; and Tom found out that he was 
dirty. 

He burst into tears, and tried to climb 
up the chimney again, but the fender upset 
with a terrible noise. Up jumped the little 
girl, and, seeing Tom, began to scream. In 
ran her nurse from the next room, and 
Tom jumped out of the window and down 
to the garden below. The gardener, and 
the groom, and the dairy-maid, and Mr. 
Grimes, all ran after Tom. But he made 
for the woods, and they could not catch 
him. 

When he got into the woods, the 
boughs laid hold of his legs, and poked 
into his face, and scratched him. Still, he 
pushed bravely on through it all. On and 
on he went, over a great moor, where 
there were huge spiders, and green lizards. 


TOM, THE WATER BABY 155 

and little foxes. H^her and higher he 
went, up a hill, and then down the other 
side, until he was a long way off from Mr. 
Grimes. 

He was tired and hungry, for the sun 
was high now, but on he went like the 
brave little man he w£is, a mile off, and a 
thousand feet down. Of course, he dirtied 
everything as he went. There has been a 
black smudge all down the crag ever since. 
There have been more black beetles, too, 
for Tom dirtied the papa of them all. 

On and on! He was so thirsty and 
footsore I But, at last, he came to a neat, 
pretty little cottage, with clipped yew 
hedges all around the garden. There were 
yews inside, too, cut into peacocks, and 
trumpets, and teapots, and all sorts of 
queer shapes. He came slowly up to the 
open door ; and then peeped in, half airaid. 

And there, by the fireplace, sat the 
nicest old woman that ever was seen. She 
wore a red petticoat, and a short dimity 
gown. She had on a clean white cap, with 
a black silk handkerchief over it, tied under 


156 TOM, THE WATER BABY 

her chin. At her feet sat the grandfather 
of all the cats. 

“ Who are you, and what do you 
want?” she cried, as she saw Tom. “A 
dirty chimney sweep! Away with you!” 

“Water!” said poor Tom, quite faint. 

The old woman looked at him through 
her spectacles. “The boy is ill,” she said. 
So she gave Tom a cup of milk and a 
bit of bread. She put him in a bam on 
sweet, soft hay, and bade him sleep. Then 
she went in again, but Tom did not fall 
asleep. 

He tinned and tossed. He seemed to 
hear the little girl crying to him: “Oh, 
you are so dirty!” And he kept saying, 
though he was half asleep : “ I must be 
clean. I must be clean.” 

All of a sudden he found himself, not 
in the out-house upon the hay, but in the 
middle of a meadow, with a stream of 
water just before him. He had come there 
on his own legs, between sleep and awake, 
and he was not a bit surprised. He lay 
down in the grass and looked at the clear, 


TOM, THE WATER BABY 1S7 

clear water. He dipped his hands in and 
found it cool. So cool! 

“I will be a fish,” he said. “I will 
swim in the water. I must be clean!” 

So he pulled off his poor, ragged 
clothes. He put his little hot, sore feet in 
the water, and then his legs. Suddenly 
he saw a beautiful fairy rising up out of 
the water and reaching her hands to him. 
Green water weeds floated around her 
sides, and white water lilies around her 
head. The fairies of the stream came up 
from the bottom and circled around her, 
for she was their queen. She said to them, 
as she took Tom in her strong arms; “I 
have brought you a new little brother ! ” 

Then Tom fell asleep— the simniest, 
coziest, quietest sleep that ever he had in 
his life, because the fairies had taken him. 
And now comes the most wonderful part of 
the story. When Tom awoke he was swim- 
ming about in the stream, as white, and 
clean, and happy as possible. He was not a 
poor little chimney sweep any longer. The 
fairies had turned him into a water-baby. 




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